Galactic War: Book 4: Behind the Mask
by ELF Commando
Summary: The Varactyl Clan, the 503rd, & General ell Talaan are deployed to track down & capture the elusive General of the CIS, Grievous AKA the Knight Slayer . Little does Adriaan know that the Jedi Council has enlisted a very unwelcome addition to her team.
1. Varactyl Clan brawls to Celebrate

_**Su'cuy, valued readers! **_**Welcome to book 4 of the _Galactic War _series! Unlike the first three books, I'm not going to publish the whole book all at once; instead, I'm shooting for publishing a couple of chapters a day. The story is already complete, I'm just not publishing it all at once because there's quite a lot of chapters. Anyway, read and (most importantly) review! I appreciate the feedback!**

**Okay, Disclaimer: I don't own _Star Wars. _Just in case any of you were wondering...**

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✶Time period: + 21 BBY (One year into the Clone Wars)✶

Chapter 1

One year since he had been home. One year, stranded out on a Mid-Rim post with nothing to do but hack down droid armies all day. One year into the Clone Wars. One year of protein cubes for dinner. One year since the battle of Geonosis, when it had all began. One year since his Master had died. One year since Adriaan ell Talaan, youngest Jedi Knight in the Galactic Republic, had become his new Master.

One year with Aedan Kenobi, the record-holding Apprentice for being the most annoying kid in the universe.

Now, everything in Kan Enik's present life was to change. For today, the Republic troops had finally driven out the CIS presence from the Hai system. Thanks to cooperative efforts of Commander ell Talaan and her rising elite force, known as the Shadow Squad, the enemy had been vanquished.

It was time for the 503rd legion and their Commander to move on to a different system, where they would do virtually the same thing all over again ––– struggle to survive longer than the droid threat.

"Can't wait to ship outta this wasteland, kid." A massive, grayish-skinned shapeshifter said as he plopped down next to Kan. Klamin J'Oli was a rare Shi'Odo shapeshifter species that Adriaan had found on their previous assignment in the Syleeto system. He was only one of the fifteen Padawans that formed the Varactyl Clan ––– the nickname given to Commander ell Talaan's Padawan Pack. Normally, a Master was allowed to instruct just one Apprentice at a time, but the Council had wondered whether they should change that. So they had asked Adriaan to test their idea out for them.

"Where's Adriaan?" Kan asked Klamin.

The Shi'Odo stopped in the middle of downing a pound of protein pellets. "Eh? The Commander? She's out with the boys, having some sort of victory party. Usually it's just something the clones do among themselves, but they invited her to go this time."

"Oh." Kan didn't know that the clone troopers had victory parties. They didn't seem to get very excited about anything. "Aren't you worried about her being out so late?"

Klamin's eyes widened, and he shapeshifted into a Jawa in surprise. "_Utinni_! I mean, of course not," he said, resuming his present form. "She's with the clones, who will look after her if there's any trouble. Not only that, she knows how to take care of herself. You worry too much."

Kan could see his point, so he just shrugged. "I'm just surprised they invited her to their little 'party' What do you think they're doing?'

"They went to a local cantina," Klamin said. "I'm not particularly surprised that they've let her come to one of their exclusively clones meetings; they've really taken to her."

"Adriaan almost treats them better than she treats us," Kan said. "She almost never trains the Clan anymore. Haven't you noticed? She's always out drilling her precious elite platoon, leaving Kay Lee to teach us as best as she can."

Kay Lee was the elected "assistant trainer" of the Padawan pack, since she was an elite Apprentice that would be taking the trials in a few years. Adriaan had chosen an assistant because she felt that with fourteen other Apprentices, she would definitely need help.

"Hey, don't you think getting bossed around by a seventeen-year-old Padawan all day is worth seeing Adriaan smile and having fun once and awhile?" Klamin asked. Then he frowned. "Well, now that I've said it out loud, I guess it doesn't sound like such a great deal."

"I like to see her happy," Kan said. "But if she's only happy around her troops, I think something must be wrong."

"With us or her, though; that is the question," Klamin answered.

Suddenly the encampment comm system sounded, and Kan stood up and pressed the button that opened the comlink channel. "This is a restricted military frequency. Who is this?"

"One would think Commander ell Talaan would show more respect to her superiors." The voice of Mace Windu, the second greatest Jedi Master in the galaxy, said sternly. Kan clapped a hand over his mouth, scandalized. He had just spoken rudely to a Council Member!

"I think you should work on how you answer communications," Klamin whispered, stepping forward. "Master Windu, this is Klamin J'Oli of the Varactyl Clan filling in my Master's position. She is unavailable at the moment…"

"J'Oli, I hope you still realize that the Council does not recognize you as an Apprentice, or as a member of the alleged Varactyl Clan," Mace snapped.

Klamin went red in the face. No one spoke of it, but everyone knew the circumstances of Klamin's Apprenticeship. Adriaan had had a big blowout with the Council over not letting him becoming a Padawan, and in the end, she had left the Temple in anger, outrightly disobeying her mentors and Jedi teaching by Apprenticing him anyway. The Council was still kind of touchy about that.

"Furthermore, why is Commander ell Talaan unavailable?" Mace Windu asked. "I hope it is for a good reason."

"Oh, it is," Klamin stammered. "She's, uh…she's at a party with all the clones," he blurted.

There was a moment of silence on the other end. Kan looked at Klamin and made a cutting motion with his throat.

"Um…she'll contact you when she's off…I mean on-duty again," Klamin said, and broke off the transmission. He looked at Kan's shocked face. "What?"

"You _had _to tell him where she was."

"Hey! Didn't you ever hear Adriaan warn us not to lie, especially to a Jedi Master?" Klamin asked. "Seriously, what was I _supposed_ to tell him?"

"Not something so black and white, that's for sure," Kan answered.

"Man, you're in a foul mood today, aren't you?"

"Did somebody say something about a foul mood?" Twelve-year-old Jordin Skraps ––– a tall, lanky, redheaded girl with a gift for gab ––– flung herself down on the ground and looked at Klamin and Kan expectantly. "I was once in a foul mood it was quite terrible everyone asked me to leave them but since I was in a foul mood I wasn't going to and eventually I had to have one of those 'talks' with Master Windu. I said 'talk' sarcastically because it seems that whenever I have one of those with a Jedi Master, I never get to say anything. They expect me to just stand there and listen to them prattle on about my bad behavior and I'm not allowed to say a word in my defense. Well, after that, 'talk' with Windu I was too embarrassed to be in a foul mood again so if I were you –––"

"––– Stay in WICKED foul mood!" Nine heads popped out of nowhere and were followed by nine skipping, jumping, hyperactive bodies. Jordin, Kan and Klamin immediately groaned. Over half of the Varactyl Clan was composed of an Apprentice group that was referred to as the Wicked Club. Headed by the annoying Aedan Kenobi, the club's number one priority was to spread what they called "wickedness" ––– anything radical or dangerous or fun ––– across the galaxy. Things they hated were "good", but the confusing part of it was that"goodness" in their lingo meant bad things like the Separatists, the Sith, and taking baths.

"Foul moods are on the WICKED list," Aedan ––– a ten-year-old youth with dirty blond hair and sparkling blue eyes ––– informed Kan.

"I am _not _in a foul mood!" Kan protested.

"Ooh, somebody sounds GOOD today," The newest Wicked Club member, Nic, said.

"Goodness is ethical and is to be acclaimed in a being." The person who said this was Andora Kenobi, Aedan's twin sister. No one would have ever guessed the two to even be distantly related, for not only did Andora have dark waves of almost-black hair instead of Aedan's blond, she acted completely the opposite of him. She didn't approve of fun, had a ridiculous vocabulary unnatural for a ten-year-old to possess, and a diplomatic attitude that even the greatest politician would envy.

There were two other Varactyl Padawans with personalities that distantly resembled Andora's. These were Marya Yon, a fourteen-year-old Zabrak with incredible combat skills, and Minir Voss, a Wicked Club member that Aedan had ironically named the "comedian"

"GOODNESS sucks," Minir told Andora disgustedly.

"Then that must mean that we _all _suck," Marya said. "Because Jedi are considered the _good _keepers of peace and justice in the galaxy."

"Goodness, child, where did you learn that crass and offensive vocable?" Andora asked Marya, shocked.

"GOOD! Jedi are WICKED!" Terry, Aedan's second-in-command, shouted.

"Saying that something sucks isn't offensive," Marya said. "Furthermore, why are you calling me 'child' when I'm four years older than you?"

"I was not alluding to your physical age," Andora said primly. "I was denoting to your rudimentary cognitive age."

"Are you telling me that I have an undeveloped mind? Who was the one who came up with the genius strategy that helped the clone legions break through the CIS wall?"

"To my recollection, it was Commander Lee that formulated that brilliant tactic," Andora said.

"No, Kay Lee did _not; _it was _Marya,_" Jordin said. "I have a sharp memory, so I never forget anything, so I know that it was Marya, not Kay Lee. Marya is intelligent and forgetful and brave and easily scared and kind and ruthless and talkative and withdrawn and –––"

"Jordin, what you are saying doesn't make any sense," Kan pointed out.

"Like _anything _that old GOOD says makes any sense," Aedan sniffed. "Why can't you all speak WICKED Basic so that we can actually understand you? You're dialect is primitive and unintelligible."

"Then how come you can understand us, _WICKEDS_?" Klamin asked, sarcastically emphasizing the word "wicked"

"How come_ I_ am never allowed to finish what I'm saying?" Jordin said indignantly. "Kan I find your constant interruptions offensive and I wish you would stop doing that because if you'd only listen to me once and awhile you'd hear something worth hearing and Klamin stop eating all the protein pellets even though I don't like them I'm still hungry so stop eating you've had enough and…"

"ROAR! You GOODS are going _down_ for interrupting my WICKED beauty sleep!" A strange being with glowing red skin stomped out of a tent and stormed over to the group. It was Heatrian, the Pyronite. He was an odd and rare species; the only one left of his kind. Consisting entirely out of volcanic material, he had been enslaved on his homeworld, Zylxx, because the inhabitants had argued that since he was not made out of organic material, he was not a sentient lifeform.

'We're _not _GOODS!" the Wicked Club screamed as their Pyronite friend charged toward them, eyes blazing and mini-bursts of lava shooting out of his head. Everyone shrieked in terror and scattered as the Pyronite broke into their midst.

"Stupid GOODS! Stop arguing so that I can get some WICKED sleep for once!" he yelled.

"WICKEDS don't need sleep!" Aedan shouted recklessly. The Pyronite turned on his Wicked King angrily and picked him up by the collar of his tunic.

"Heatrian, it is inimical to the Jedi modus vivendi to implicate a contretemps of gratuitous militancy,"Andora said.

"Can you WICKEDLY stop speaking in long, GOOD sentences?" Andre asked, holding his head. "My WICKED brain hurts whenever you talk."

"Heatrian I know how you feel I remember one time I wanted some sleep and my rude friend Kan woke me up because he said it was breakfast time but I didn't believe him and told him so and I went back to sleep and that horrid Kan caused me to miss breakfast but I did not throw a tantrum like you Heatrian because that is the wrong thing to do I just cried and pouted which is much different and –––"

"Heatrian! Stop choking Aedan and bashing his head into the wall!" Klamin shouted, barreling Jordin over as he tackled the angry Pyronite. Kan stepped forward and helped Jordin up, who had not stopped talking even when she had fallen down.

"Kan why did you help pick me up am I not capable of picking myself up? I am so tired of everyone thinking I need help with everything because I don't I can do things myself. Klamin that was very rude of you to push me over that was very mean and my shins are bruised now and Heatrian will you stop making a racket I am trying to complain –––"

"If you hadn't been in a foul mood, none of this would be happening," Marya told Kan.

"Oh, so this is all _my _fault?! Why don't you keep _your_ trap shut, Miss Grumps?" Kan asked nastily.

"Trap shut? I'm the one who _never _protests, never complains, never says _anything. You're _the one that always complains about the rations, you big fat moron –––"

"Take that back!" Kan shouted. "I'm not big or fat, or a moron, and you know that!"

"Yeah, the big fat moron is _me_," Jahn Pal said, picking his nose.

Sai'wer removed his finger from his mouth. "Really? And all this time, I thought the big fat moron was _me _all along! Jahn Pal, how could you be so deceptive and treacherous to me, your own cousin? I ought to wring your little –––"

"Whoa, whoa, chill, guys; this is serious, if even the 'geniuses' are fighting," Klamin said, coming between the arguers. "Why don't we all just sit down and have a nice dinner of –––"

"––– Protein pellets? Thanks, but no thanks," Marya said acidly. "I have more of an appetite for getting into a bloody fight."

"Yeah, thanks for interrupting the WICKED fight, Klam," Aedan sneered. "Now you've made us GOODLY forget what we were arguing about."

"We were WICKEDLY gearing up for a brawl, too," Nic whined.

"Let's get him!" Andre roared. The group all went for the giant Shi'Odo, who despite his size nimbly dodged their attacks with a lazy ease that only infuriated them even more.

"Stand still so that we can hit you!" Kan yelled.

"Yeah, you GOOD!" Kien screamed.

"Kick his GOOD butt!" Nic cackled.

"Hey! If this is Intergalactic Kick Klamin's Butt Day, why didn't anyone tell me?" Kay Lee asked, emerging from one of the tents. She had hastily pulled her red-blond hair back into a ponytail, which gleamed brightly against the dark navy blue of her pilot suit. She was not particularly tall for seventeen years old, but she made up for it with her great sense of leadership, intelligence, and agility. She was an able assistant Jedi trainer.

"Come on, Kay, join in the brawl!" Klamin shouted, grinning and waving as a mob of Wicked Club members climbed up his back and began hitting his head with their tiny fists. He laughed. "Stop, Nic, you're tickling me! Ah…hah hah! Hah hah hah hah hah hah hah hah hah hah! Kay Lee ––– bah hah hah ––– he…hee hee hee STOP! Help!"

Klamin disappeared underneath the mass of angry Padawans as he succumbed to his laughter.

Kay Lee scratched her head. "Hm, I would have never guess that Klamin's _head _was ticklish," she said. "I'd better save that information…it could be useful when Klamin misbehaves."

She smiled at the thought of finally having ammo to use against Klamin in their constant verbal battles. Then she jumped wholeheartedly into the midst of the fight and began to punch and kick left and right, not really caring who she hit, because at some point or another they had all aggravated her.

"Ow! Kay!" Kan rubbed his nose.

"Oops, _sorry,_" Kay Lee said, doing a back kick straight into Klamin's gut.

The Shi'Odo's face contorted in agony, and he actually stopped giggling for a few microseconds as he recovered from the unexpected attack. "Whose team are you on?!" he screamed.

"Not yours, that's for sure," Kay said, doing a backfist into Andre's face.

"GOOD Kay! If you aren't on Klamin's team, why are you hitting the WICKEDS?" Andre choked.

"I just _missed_, that's all," Kay Lee said. "I thought that the Wicked Club believed that girls always miss what they're aiming for."

"You _purposely _missed! GOOD!"

"Discontinue this unjustifiable spectacle of pugnacity, please!" Andora begged.

"What's that? I didn't _hear _you," Kay said, boxing Andora's ears. "Can you repeat that?"

The gullible Andora opened her mouth. "I said for you to discontinue this unjustifiable spectacle of –––"

"Passivity? I agree." Kay Lee executed an axe kick into Aedan so that he went flying three meters away.

"Kay Lee knocked my tooth out!" Aedan said when he sat up, wiping the blood from his mouth. He looked with awe at Commander Lee. "She's WICKEDER than I thought," he murmured. "Note to WICKED self: Stay away from WICKED Kay if I value my WICKED teeth."

"Yeah, Aedan, imagine what it would feel like if she knocked out _all _your teeth," Jahn Pal said, grinning so that it showed a gap in his mouth where his front teeth used to be.

"If you had no teeth, you wouldn't be able to WICKEDLY _bite _people," Andre whispered.

"NO!" Sai'wer gasped.

"I've heard that people who lose their WICKED teeth…" Minir lowered his voice to a low mutter as he dodged one of Klamin's gigantic fists. "They…they have to…"

Aedan started to chew on his nails with fright.

"They have to drink food through a tube!" Minir finished breathlessly.

Andre and Aedan screamed and held each other to keep themselves from shaking.

"Stay away from GOOD Kay, WICKED King!" Andre yelled.

"I will, I will!" Aedan shouted. "I don't want to end up like GOOD old Jahn Pal and have no front teeth to WICKEDLY tear my food to little GOOD pieces…"

"Huh? But I haven't lost any teeth," Jahn Pal said, confused.

"What? Then why are your front teeth missing? Did Kay Lee knock them out of you?" Andre asked, peering into Jahn Pal's mouth curiously.

"Oh, those?" Sai'wer asked cheerfully. "Silly Andre, those are sugar cubes, not teeth!"

"_Sugar cubes_?!" Andre asked incredulously.

"Yeah…sort of indigestible, though," Jahn Pal murmured. "They don't taste like sugar, either. I think they're supposed to be _sugarless _sugar cubes."

Andre and Aedan looked at each other and shrugged.

"Hey! Looks like Aedan is thirty seconds overdue for getting beaten up!" Kay Lee crowed, advancing upon them.

"No! No! Don't knock out any more teeth! They're worth nothing to you!" Aedan screamed, backing up.

"Yeah, don't take our sugar cubes! They don't taste very good, anyway," Sai'wer said informatively.

Aedan and Andre rolled their eyes.

"Whoo-ah-yadee-ah-ay-yah!" Klamin shrieked, doing a body slam right on top of Kay Lee. She yelled in anger and pain and began to thrash wildly on the ground.

"Get off of me you great big slab of worthless shapeshifting flesh I am going to _crispa uba _once I get a chance to make a fist, you –––"

"Then I guess I'll just sit on you forever, so you'll never have a chance to fry me," Klamin said easily, taking up a sitting position on her back. She started to kick him in the spine.

"Varactyl Clan! Unite!" she screamed. "Attack the Shi'Odo!"

Everyone backed away as Klamin shapeshifted into a Krayt dragon.

"Um, no thank you; I don't specialize in monster hunts," Marya said, shuddering.

"And you punched me in the nose, so why should I help you?" Kan asked.

"Because I am your Master."

"Technically verbalizing, you are only our surrogate instructor," Andora pointed out.

"Way to get all specific," Kay Lee muttered. "Come on, don't you guys want to keep fighting?"

They all looked at each other.

"As a matter of WICKED fact, we do," Aedan said. He balled up a fist and punched Jahn Pal in the head.

"Ow! Who just hit me! Oh…oh! Boohoo!" Jahn Pal wailed, holding his foot. "Who just stepped on my toe?"

"Look at the idiot! Hah hah!" Aedan chortled.

"Aedan, how dare you!" Jahn Pal said, grabbing the boy by the collar. "I've just been punched in the foot, and you're just standing here doing nothing!"

Aedan sighed. "_I _WICKEDLY hit you, you GOOD imbecile," he said.

"Oh."

There was a moment of silence.

"Well, aren't you going to WICKEDLY do something?" Aedan asked finally.

Jahn Pal shrugged. "Nah, that's all right." He sat down and began to suck his thumb.

Aedan yelled and did a sidekick into Kan's shins.

"Ow!" Kan swung his fist at Aedan and hit the boy on the jaw. The Wicked Club screamed with rage and surged toward Kan, and the brawl started all over again.

When the fight was about five minutes in, Kay Lee felt that she couldn't take the Shi'Odo's weight any longer so, summoning all her strength, she jerked her head backward, Force-pushing him off of her so that he flew several meters and crashed into the 503rd just as they marched back into the camp.

"Ow! Klamin, get your great shapeshifting hide off of me! I haven't been gone _that _long!" Adriaan said from underneath him. She kicked him off of her and stood up, dusting her tunic off as she surveyed the Varactyl Clan, who had stopped fighting and were staring at her sheepishly.

At seventeen years old, Adriaan ell Talaan didn't look like a very impressive Commander. She was of medium height, and though she was the same age as Kay, the experiences of the war had hardened her, making her look older. Her hair was at a practical shoulder-length, with long sidebangs which hung over one eye, giving her a rakish appearance. She used to wear drab brown and black colors, but lately she had resorted to wearing deep maroon or even bright red robes and armor. What really made people look at her was her eyes ––– a strange, deep blue color with yellowish flecks around the pupil ––– and the way her mouth quirked into a sarcastic grin that the Padawans had learned to beware of.

That was the smile she was wearing now as she looked them over, taking note of Kan's black eye, Aedan's missing tooth, Kay Lee's rumpled hair, Klamin's torn up shirt, Andora's bruised cheek, Marya's bloody lip, the bruise swelling on Andre's forehead, the scrapes and cuts on everyone…except Heatrian, who was the only one of the group that appeared calm and undamaged.

Adriaan looked at them for a long time. "Well, it seems like you guys had a good time while I was gone," she said pleasantly.

"You can say that again," Minir muttered. "GOOD time is right."

"Kay Lee ate the sugar cubes that grow in our mouths!" Jahn Pal and Sai'wer wailed.

Their Master was probably taken aback at this unusual statement, but she was careful about keeping her facial expression neutral. She waved a hand, and a clone with blue streaks dyed in his jet black hair stepped forward.

"Sir yes sir!"

"Comet," Adriaan said, addressing the clone. "Go back to the Cantina and order five dozen bantha burgers with the usual condiments and root chips on the side…oh, and get Jawa juice too…an extra-large for the Pyronite and the smallest size possible for the Shi'Odo."

"What?!" Klamin looked shocked. "Why does Heatrian get a bigger drink than me? He doesn't even eat or drink what you're ordering!"

"I gave him the biggest because he was the only one not fighting, as I can see by the results," she said, pointing at Klamin's torn clothing.

"But I _did _WICKEDLY fight," Heatrian said sullenly. "Klamin just sat on top of Kay Lee."

Adriaan's jaw set stubbornly. "Fine. Get a big rock for the Pyronite, and nothing for Klamin."

"But why?" Klamin asked.

"Sitting on Kay Lee is the greatest offense ––– you're lucky that I'm not beating the life out of you right now," Adriaan said. "I leave for twenty stinking minutes to go to a victory party, and I come back to find the entire camp in chaos! I really expected more from Padawans of your age and skill. The only reason Comet is getting food for you is because I know you're all tired of the protein pellets. This should be a day to celebrate ––– not get into a fight."

"Sir, if I may correct you, we were actually at the cantina for three hours," Comet said.

Adriaan was silent for several moments. "Thank you, Comet; I stand corrected. You may go."

"Sir, yes sir!" Comet saluted, smiled sympathetically at the Varactyl Clan, and ran off to carry out the objective.

Klamin looked at Adriaan with puppy dog eyes, but puppy dog expressions never softened Adriaan up. She glared at Klamin and turned to Kay Lee.

"Assistant trainer Lee, were there any messages while I was gone?"

"Ree, there was an urgent communication from Coruscant," Kan said. "The Jedi Council wished to speak to you about…something."

"Kan, I know that I wanted you to call me 'Ree' in the past, but I'd prefer that from now on, I am addressed as Commander ell Talaan or just Master," Adriaan snapped. She walked over to the communications relay and contacted the Jedi Council. "Commander ell Talaan reporting. Do you have need of me?"

A hologram of Master Yoda, Obi-wan Kenobi, and Mace Windu appeared. Master Windu folded his arms and drew his brows together in a frown.

"Commander ell Talaan, it is not customary for a Jedi Knight to keep the Council waiting."

"I am very sorry, Master Windu," Adriaan said, bowing. "I was with the troops at a local cantina, celebrating our victory at Hai. I thought it very important that I acknowledge the sacrifices my clones have made to complete the mission."

"Understandable, that is," Yoda said, nodding. "But careful not to over-celebrate, you must be."

"Yes, Master." She bowed again. "I actually find this communication unexpected; I have lost contact with the Temple for the past year. I was beginning to think you had all forgotten me."

"Forget a disobedient Apprentice, the Council does not," Yoda said.

"I am not an Apprentice, though you are right about the disobedient part," Adriaan said smoothly. "Now, I know the Council has many more important things to do other than lecture a maverick Jedi, so could you come to the point?"

"Dangerous times, we are in," Yoda said, tapping his gimer stick on the floor. "The Jedi killer, General Grievous, has been sighted."

"General Grievous?" Adriaan scoffed. "He's half droid, all moron. Why should we even care about him? He's just one of Dooku's bootlickers."

"Because he has caused many Jedi deaths all over the galaxy," Mace Windu said sternly. "I warn you not to underestimate Grievous, for you may have to face him."

"Right." Adriaan did not look impressed. "So what do you want of me?"

"Though agree with your decisions, we do not, valuable, you still are," Yoda said. "The recapture of Hai, a great accomplishment, it was. Rewarded, a perseverant Commander should be."

"We are sending more clone legions to your sector," Mace continued. "They will arrive within the hour. You must prepare _LightningStrike _to leave the Hai system immediately. You must track down this despicable CIS General at all costs. Call for Jedi or clone reinforcements as needed."

"Do you really think two frigates are necessary for a dumb droid General?" Adriaan asked.

"Once again, underestimate Grievous, you must not…General," Yoda said, and then the hologram faded.

Kan scratched his head. "Were my ears deceiving me, or did he just call you General?"

"He said it, all right," Adriaan said. Then she rolled her eyes. "Typical. Sending us on a blue milk run. They must be paranoid." She sighed and turned around. "Ember! Rez!"

"Reporting for duty, Commander!" Ember and Rez said, stepping forward and removing their helmets ––– a custom Adriaan had incorporated into her legion.

"Change in rank, I think," Adriaan said. "It might have been a slip in speech, but Yoda called me General."

"It's not like Master Yoda to make a mistake like that, General," Rez put in.

"What are our orders, sir?" Ember asked.

"Retire for the night," Adriaan said. "We'll break camp and leave at dawn."

"But, sir ––– I mean, Adriaan," Kay Lee said, stepping forward. "You promised a training session at dawn tomorrow morning, remember?"

"Oh." Adriaan's face twisted up. "I moved that appointment all the way back to tomorrow afternoon; I promised to train Shadow Squad in the morning. But I guess all training sessions will come to a halt until further notice."

"But, Adriaan ––––"

"You're Master has spoken," General ell Talaan said sternly. "Goodnight."


	2. The Drums of Conflict

**For those who survived Chapter 1, here is the next part! Once again, I would greatly appreciate it if you would review. I mean, just saying, "Awesome!" or something is fine. At least then I know you liked it. If you didn't, of course you can still review, but just be polite about it, okay? **

**Disclaimer: I don't own _Star Wars, _and the verses at the end of the chapter were taken from **_**The Clone Wars: The Dreams of General Grievous** _**web comic.**

**Okay, now that we understand each other, on with the story!**

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Chapter 2

_"Ree, I don't think it would be a good idea if you tried to escape. Do you realize what happens to slaves who get caught doing that?"_

_ She slipped on the boots and began to braid her scraggly, uncombed hair. "Hurry; help me pin my hair up," she said. "I have to look just like the other boys that run errands. Come on, hand me that cap."_

_ He threw the cap down and stamped it into the floor. "Ree, are you even listening to me? You're going to get killed doing this!"_

_ "Well, that wouldn't be your problem, would it, Chun-be?" she said easily, picking up the hat and shoving it on her head. _

_ "Do you mean to say that you _want _to die?"_

_ "Sort of," she shrugged, tugging a strand of hair back. "But mostly, it's choosing between a life of living death or being allowed a swift and painless demise from the snipers that patrol the city gates."_

_ "You don't seem to be living a life of death, despite the fact that you are temporarily in servitude, until our Masters find the time to rescue us…"_

_ "It's not that; you didn't hear the news?" she shrugged into the dark green cloak and stood. "The Kaleesh paid twenty-thousand for me today. I no longer belong to the princess."_

_ "The Kaleesh?" Darc's brow furrowed. "You mean Qymaen jai Sheelal, known as Grievous, Huk Slayer? No offense, but why would he want you?"_

_ "Because I'm a Jedi, and I could teach him combat forms he doesn't know. I'll live on Kalee until I've taught him everything I know, and then he'll feed me to some foul creature that resides in his disgusting habitation."_

_ "Well, in that case, I guess all I can say is –––" Darc stepped forward and threw open the window. He made a sweeping motion at it. "––– May the Force be with you."_

Adriaan sighed deeply and opened her eyes as a soft tapping on the door blocked out the voices inside her head. She had been replaying a memory of the past; a memory that was almost pleasant. She had been about thirteen when she and her fellow Padawan Darc Chun-be had been enslaved by sith-worshipping pirates. That was where Adriaan had gotten the strange tattoo on her hand, and that was when she had first met the Kaleesh warrior called Grievous.

Grievous, Huk Slayer. General Grievous, Knight Slayer. Were the two of them the same?

Same name, same nasty attitude. But that was where the similarities ended. General Grievous was reported to be a bio-droid with the capability of killing Jedi. General Grievous was also a leader of the Separatist army. Qymaen Grievous had been a Kaleesh legend that had successfully driven a hostile alien species from his homeworld, Kalee. The Ragnos Pirates had offered Adriaan to him as a way to learn Jedi forms of combat. Luckily, Adriaan had escaped before being dragged to the cruel warrior's lair.

The knocking continued. Adriaan hastily threw on her thermal cape, stood up from her meditation mat, and opened the door.

"Klamin, it's not even dawn. What do you want at this hour?"

"To talk." The Shi'Odo slipped inside and bowed to her. "I cannot sleep."

"Well, go talk to Aedan or some other Wicked Club member," Adriaan said. "I'll bet they're always up at this hour."

Klamin rolled his eyes. "Please, I get enough of them during the daytime as it is; I don't want to deal with them at night as well. I just wanted to talk to you about something."

She waved him toward the meditation mat. "Then sit down, Apprentice, and begin."

She sat down cross-legged and looked at him expectantly.

He swallowed. "Um, Adriaan, I want you to know I am voicing not only my opinion, but the opinion of the entire Clan. I don't wish to offend you, but it is the duty of the Padawan to tell the Master when he feels that he has not been trained to the best of the Master's ability…"

"Stop talking that way; you're going to make me laugh," Adriaan said. "You're sounding pompous."

"Well, the fact of the matter is that we don't think that…"

Adriaan continued to stare at him. "Well?"

"Once again, I feel the need to point out that I am voicing the opinion of the entire Clan, not just myself –––"

"Well, what is it?" she demanded.

He sighed. "We don't think that you've been giving us adequate training. You're spending too much time with the clones."

She looked at him for several moments before exploding in laughter.

"Adriaan, I am absolutely serious about this!" Klamin said indignantly.

She stop laughing suddenly, realizing that she had hurt his feelings. "Sorry," she said. "I thought you were kidding. This _is_ another one of your jokes, right?"

He shapeshifted into a rancor to make his point.

"Oh…oh, I see," Adriaan said, moving away from him uncomfortably. "Well, suppose you go into detail about this 'problem'"

He resumed his humanoid form and sighed. "Look, you made a very big decision deciding to take on fifteen Apprentices ––– including me ––– as well as supervising the training of twenty clones, and we are all very proud of you for that. But perhaps you have taken on more than you can handle –––"

"That's right; that's why I appointed Kay Lee as an assistant trainer," she said.

"But if you're going to hand our complete training over to her, why haven't you just knighted her and gotten it all over with?"

"I don't have that authority."

"You didn't have the authority to Apprentice me, yet you still did."

She waved a hand in dismissal. "Never mind that. Anyway, you can't say I've never trained any of you…I mean last time I trained you was, um…"

"Last month," Klamin said angrily. "And that was only for fifteen minutes until Wolf came to report that the Separatists were spotted making a getaway…"

"Well, it wasn't _my _fault they chose that particular time to attempt an escape," she protested. "This is a _war, _Klamin; we have to make allowances for interruptions."

"It wouldn't have been so bad if you had just continued the training where you'd left off after the battle was over," he said. "But the problem is that you _didn't;_ as soon as the last droid was a pile of scrap metal, you immediately began an extensive two hour training session with the clones…"

"Vyto had almost shot Ember's head off in the battle. I couldn't just leave that mistake uncorrected," Adriaan argued.

"But Aedan had chopped off Jordin's hair in that same battle…"

"Hair is just hair," she said. "You can't survive without a brain, but I guess your existence proves me wrong."

"ADRIAAN!" Klamin yelled. "You're not listening!"

"Eh…what did you say? Oh…just kidding." She stopped grinning when she saw the look on his face. She sighed. "All right, what do you want from me?"

"Stop spending so much time with the clones," Klamin said in a more gentle voice. "I know you're fond of them…but you've been taking it too far. It's been an entire year since teh formation of the Varactyl Clan, and I haven't witnessed much improvement in any of us. You've been promising to teach the younger Padawans synchronized fighting for two weeks now, and you're going to do that tomorrow in the _Loyalty's _cargo bay, before lunch. Understood?"

"Sir yes sir ––– I mean, yes," she said, saluting.

"And you're going to continue to train us every day after that, too," he continued sternly.

"Okay," she said sullenly. "Is that all?"

"Just curious, but why have you been avoiding these training sessions?"

"I haven't deliberately avoided spending time with my clan; I enjoy training you guys…even Aedan," she said, putting her head in her hands. "It's just that…I worry about the clones. They're putting their life on the line every time they march out there, and it's almost like they don't even care if they make it back or not. I worry about my Padawans, too, but not as much, because you guys have the Force to help you. The only reason the clones were created was to fight in wars, and once they've completed their training, they're out there on their own. It must be a lonely life, being a clone. Living with no chance of being rewarded, and no hope for a better future."

"So what are you going to do about it? You can't change what has already happened, Adriaan; it's not your fault the clones were born to die."

"That doesn't mean that I can't make a difference," Adriaan said bravely. "I want to give these boys an actual chance of surviving out in the war, and I also want them to realize that they are not just expendable soldiers that no one cares about. I'm sorry…I shouldn't have sacrificed my Apprentices for that. I promise I'll make it up to you."

"Thank you, Master." Klamin bowed gratefully out of the room.

"Any time," Adriaan called back.

As soon as she sensed that the Shi'Odo had finally gone, she sat back down on her mat and went into a meditative stance.

_"What is your name, little one?" the Kaleesh warrior asked her, his voice breathing into her ear. She felt a prickle of fear run down her spine at that voice, but she refused to let him terrify her._

_ "What is _your _name?" she asked defiantly._

_ The Kaleesh laughed softly, and she was sure that it was the worst sound she had ever heard. _

_ "Who am _I_? What is _my _name? _

_** "The Drums of Conflict are my beating heart.**_

_** The Fire of Conquest rages through my veins.**_

_** Strong, young lungs breathe in air laden **_

_** With enemies turned to ashes.**_

_** It is here on the battlefield that I thrive.**_

_** I have toppled Nations**_

_** I have slain Kings**_

_** I have murdered Legends.**_

_** My name has been screamed by the dying,**_

_** Whispered by the living who cower in my shadow. **_

_** My name has been cursed by widows**_

_** And feared by the greatest warriors. **_

_** "My name means Suffering and Pain ––– my name means Death.**_

_** "The death of thousands.**_

_** "I am Grievous, Huk Slayer."**_


	3. A Late Morning Start

**_Su'cuy_, faithful readers! Hope you are enjoying the book so far! I hope you all enjoy reading this chapter, and I really hope some (if not all) review!**

**For those of you who want to know, _Ade Verda _means "Children Warriors" in Mando'a. How does Adriaan, a non-Mando Jedi, know how to speak this language? I promise that later in the story it is explained. For now, you will just have to hang in suspense.**

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Chapter 3

"Break camp! All troopers in formation! Ade Verda Brigade, prepare for departure! Shadow Squad, report at encampment control center."

Kan woke up to the bustle of encampment activity as the clones efficiently packed up and made ready for departure. His Master's voice was clearly heard above the turmoil, seemingly rapping out orders without even drawing breath. As Kan slid off his sleep mat and began to dress into his simple Jedi tunic, the flap of his tent opened and Jordin's cheerful, pixie-like face peeked in.

"Kan! Oh…sorry, I didn't know you were still in your undertunic," her face reddened in a rare display of embarrassment, and she didn't come in until Kan was fully dressed and had strapped his utility belt on. "Kan!" she shouted again. "I declare, you are the laziest Jedi Padawan ever Apprenticed. Our Master woke up at the crack of dawn this morning and so did I and so did all the clones. Kan have you ever seen clones sleep I haven't I wonder if they sleep with all twenty pieces of their armor on do you think that would be uncomfortable I think it would…oh yes well anyway we're departing today but I don't know where we're going because Ember and our Master haven't decided yet and we are all going on the _Republic's Hope _even the elite squad so we are traveling together isn't that grand? Since I was the first one up I tried to have a conversation with Adriaan but she's proven to be very untalkative and she interrupted an outrageously hilarious story I was orating to tell me to wake everyone else up. Though I found her attitude to be most uncivil, I was nonetheless compelled to obey so I first woke up Kay Lee her hair was really messy I advised her to comb her hair when she goes to bed because it was really tangled. She only laughed and walked off with her hair still unbrushed and then I woke up Klamin and I told him he needed to brush his teeth. I only said that because he's a boy and boys never brush their teeth and I was sure he wasn't going to do it unless someone reminded him and have _you _brushed your teeth this morning, Kan? I suppose not. Your breath smells like the back end of a bantha carcass, by the way. Then I woke up Andora but it turned out she was already awake and waking up other people and I told her to wake up the Wicked Club and she didn't look very happy about that but anyway then I went and woke up…"

Knowing that Jordin could waste an entire morning giving him an extremely ornate description on something as trivial as brushing her teeth, Kan interrupted her as politely as he could. "Um, Jordin, could you just skip everyone else and get to the part when you tell me what Adriaan wants me to do?"

"Oh dear…waking up Marya was so very funny, too." Jordin pouted for a few minutes, then said brightly. "Everyone is at a conference around the encampment control center and Adriaan suggested that all of us attend because it would be interesting and I'm sure you will find it interesting but I am certain that _I _will not find it interesting so I am not going –––"

"Conference?" Kan stood up and threw on his boots. "Jordin, quickly; when did the conference start?"

"Oh, half an hour ago," Jordin said cheerfully. "Adriaan said it would be an hour long and I know how impatient you are so I thought I'd let you sleep in and miss half of it…"

Kan didn't stand around to hear any more. He was already ten steps out the door. "Later, Jordin! I've got a meeting to catch!"

He made his way through the disassembling camp, weaving in and out among the clone troopers as they packed up the prefabricated shelters and strapped on whatever additional items they had to carry ––– blaster rifles, pistols, vibroknives, comlinks, signal flares, jetpacks, armor paint, datafiles, combat manuals, protein cubes, medpacks, and medals Adriaan had given them for exceptional bravery in combat.

A year ago, Kan hadn't thought much of the clones; they had given him the impression that they were just walking piles of flesh with the same dull, boring personality. Now he saw there was a lot more to them than what he had first suspected.

Adriaan had definitely shaped her soldiers up. They seemed to be more alert, more agile, and more independent than the others. They even had differing preferences. For example, the clone Commander of Starlight Company, Ember, liked his hair cut a certain way. He was moderately aggressive in his decisions in combat, was gruff in personality, and valued loyalty and efficiency above all else.

The clone nicknamed Wolf seemed to like Adriaan especially. He rarely smiled, but that was normal among the clones, but when he did, it was always when Adriaan was around. He favored using two blaster pistols, like the Clone Captain of the 501st legion ––– at least, that was what Adriaan and the clones said. Kan certainly didn't know anything about the Captain of the 501st, and he couldn't care less. Let them have their fake heroes; no clone would ever be a person for Kan to look up to.

Rez ––– whom Adriaan addressed as CT-1374 when angry at him ––– was more sentimental than the other clones. And he was bold; so bold, in fact, that the Wicked Club considered him to be "wicked" He was also extremely self-sufficient and independent, and didn't always follow orders. He did things his own way. He even grew his hair long, against military regulations. Kan wondered why Adriaan didn't discourage his rebelliousness; she only said, "That's just part of who he is, Kan. I cannot change him any better than I can make your arms evolve into wings."

However, she did tell Rez to alert her in the event that he was altering a crucial battle strategy.

"Commander Enik, sir!" a young clone that looked to be about fifteen or sixteen years old hastily dropped the helmet he was polishing and saluted smartly as Kan approached.

"Hey, um…" Kan squinted at the identification number on the clone's suit. "7575 Vanguard…Lieutenant Storm?"

"_Sergeant _Storm, known as CT-3105, is at the conference, sir!" the clone said. "I'm Cor."

"Oh," Kan said. "Hi."

"Hi."

There was an awkward moment of silence.

"Orders, sir?" Cor asked finally.

"N-n-n…no," Kan stammered.

"Inspection, sir?"

"No, I…" Kan fumbled for something to say. "Nice armor."

"Thank you, sir."

Kan floundered for a bit, then extended his hand. "I'm Commander Enik, Apprentice to General ell Talaan, Jedi Knight of the Galactic Republic –––"

"I know, sir," Cor said, his eyebrows raised quizzically. "I see you every day."

"Yes, well, hi," Kan said, moving backward. "I mean, goodbye, Onor!"

"Onor is at the conference, too!" Cor called back. "I'm CT-7575 ––– Cor!"

Kan picked up the pace, ignoring the heat that flared up to his face. He always felt so awkward speaking to a clone face-to-face, and for a good reason, too. The troopers had all been cloned from a single host…

And that host had been Jango Fett, the bounty hunter that had killed Kan's first Master.

To look every single day at the face of the person that had coldly murdered a man that had been a father to you is not an easy thing to do. Yet Kan had to deal with it; Kan had to fight alongside men that shared the same hardened face of the evil mercenary.

Of course, it wasn't the clones' fault. They had made no choice in this; they had not decided to become soldiers that lived only to die. They didn't get to choose what they looked like.

Kan had to admit that encouraging diversity among the clones had its advantages. For one, it made clones easier to identify…for everyone excluding Kan, that is. Adriaan hadn't been the only one who'd gotten the idea; Kan had heard reports of a clone called Alpha-17 designated to train the troops developing on Kamino how to think beyond the manual. Now, more and more clones were getting real names, cutting their hair in unique ways, and developing characteristics that set them apart from the others. Kan had once even seen a blue-eyed, white-haired clone. And he doubted the white hair came from being old. Few clones lived beyond a few months on the hard frontier. Shadow Squad was the only Platoon Kan knew of that hadn't taken any casualties…and they were always at the front line with Adriaan.

But personally, Kan felt that it really didn't matter, for no matter what, a clone was always going to share the same face as his brothers, no matter how many scars he accumulated through his experiences. Even if a clone dyed his hair red and got a mohawk and had his name tattooed on his cheek or above his eyebrow, he would always have the same face.

Jango Fett's face.

"…Last he was spotted was in the Hypori system, but that was approximately six months ago. He could be anywhere," his Master was saying. Kan knew it was her, even though he couldn't see her amidst the crowd of white troopers. He elbowed his way through until he caught sight of her familiar, black-clothed form. Today, she was also wearing a grayish-white chestplate. Clone armor, Kan realized with disgust. His Master was getting a little bit obsessive.

"Sir, according to recent clone intelligence reports –––" Ember said, punching a button at the control center. A holofile of a ship came up. "––– This is the identity of his ship."

"A Belbullab-22 starfighter; very classy," Adriaan noted.

"Those are manufactured by Feethan Ottraw Scalable Assemblies; the same Techno Union design firm that developed the Mankvim-814," Klamin said.

"Charming," Adriaan said. "The sleekness of the craft and the aggressiveness of the design fits Grievous' vanity well."

"Ma'am, Grievous will be easy to identify if he's traveling in this craft; the Belbullab-22 is a very rare design," Wolf pointed out.

"I've heard about what happened at Hypori. It's Separatist territory," Kay Lee spoke up. "After the Battle of Naboo, which caused the Republic to pass laws that hindered mass droid production, the Trade Federation secretly started a foundry on Hypori, an uninhabited planet close to Geonosis. Jedi Master Daakman Barrek discovered the facility, however, and the Republic sent a Jedi/clone taskforce to help him destroy the factory. Unfortunately, many of the reinforcements never made it alive to the surface –––– and to make things worse, the new CIS General, Grievous, led the Separatist attack. He killed nearly all the Jedi sent to Hypori. We haven't launched a second attack on the planet yet."

"Hmm." Adriaan scratched her chin. "So he was last spotted in Separatist territory…a planet near Geonosis." She turned to one of the clones standing near her. "Wolf, bring up a chart that maps out everything from Rishi to Melida Daan."

"But, sir, most of that region is Wild Space…"

"Yeah, I know. That region also maps out Separatist territories close to Hypori."

Wolf pressed a button, and a holofile of different planets came up. "See, General, the only CIS outposts in this region are Hypori and Geonosis. The rest are just minor charted settlements and neutral worlds such as Ryloth and Roon…"

"Those are the places Grievous might be hiding," Adriaan said. She grabbed a laserpointer and circled the area where the planet Ryloth lay. "We can almost immediately eliminate Ryloth because it's part of a major trade route ––– the Corellian Run. Furthermore, it is heavily populated, so I doubt that someone as recognizable as Grievous would hide there. As for Roon –––"

She pressed a button, zooming in on the planet. "It's nearly inaccessible. It lies just beyond the Cloak of the Sith nebulosity."

"Maybe Grievous is hiding there," Kan suggested, pushing his way to the front.

But Adriaan shook her head. "No. Nebula are even more dangerous to fly in than asteroid fields, and the Cloak of the Sith is probably the most perilous Nebula out there. Grievous is a Separatist; in other words, he's a coward. He's not going to fly into a nebula, I can tell you that."

"But, Adriaan, aren't you assuming too much by eliminating Roon as a possible hiding place?" Kay Lee asked. "You've never even met Grievous."

"Maybe I have, maybe I haven't," Adriaan said, shrugging. "Trust me, Grievous isn't going anywhere near that nebula."

"If you say so." By the look on Kay Lee's face, Kan could tell that she still had her doubts.

If Adriaan noticed this, she obviously didn't care, for she turned back to the map. "However, these unnamed settlements in Wild Space could be something worth checking into."

"Ma'am, there are hundreds of partially colonized worlds in Wild Space," A clone that Kan believed was called Nano said. "Only a handful have been charted. He could be absolutely _anywhere…"_

"Then let's start with some of the larger worlds with atmospheres capable of sustaining life," Adriaan said, jabbing her pointer at a small group of objects that orbited around the Hypori system. "How about Asteroid XO251B?"

"Fine with me," Klamin said.

"I'm in, but I still think this is a stupid idea," Kay Lee said.

"You may not be wrong," Adriaan said easily. "All right, Ember, get the troops aboard the _Fortitude _and prepare the fleet to make the hyperspace jump to Wild Space."


	4. Just Another Drill

**Hey guys! I see some people have been reading this, but as of yet no reviews. What's up with that? Oh well, guess it's too much to ask for...**

**Hope you guys like this chapter! This is when everyone gets to see how Adriaan trains all her students. Once again, feedback is appreciated.**

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Chapter 4

Adriaan always kept her promises. Adriaan ––– good old Adriaan ––– always got the job done, no matter how dirty the job was.

She had promised to train the Shadow Squad, and then she had been forced to commit herself to teaching the Varactyl Clan in the same day. That gave her only one option, because she wasn't going to back down on any of her promises.

Training session for the day: simulate a battle between Jedi and clones.

Varactyl Clan versus Adriaan and Shadow Squad. A confrontation like this just _had_ to be good.

Adriaan accessed the turbolift and counted down the levels to the cargo hold. She pressed the button on her wrist comlink. "_Punch I _to _Kick 1, _I'm making my way to the rendezvous point."

Ember's voice came in. She knew it was him, for even though clones had identical voices, Adriaan could tell them apart. "_Kick 1, Punch _force has already reached designated positions. What are your orders?"

"Stay low until _Kick _force has given the signal; I don't want target Fool to know that we're coming."

"Copy that. _Punch 1, _out."

Adriaan stepped off the lift and walked casually toward the group of Padawans that had gathered in the hold. Aedan was sitting on top of a crate of medical supplies, swinging his legs out so that they continually hit Klamin in the back of the head. Nic and Andre were engaged with a small inflated ball which they kicked back and forth across the room. Kay Lee was absentmindedly levitating a box filled with protein capsules, while Kan was tossing his lightsaber in the air and catching it again. Marya paced the room impatiently, unlike Andora, who was primly sitting amidst the crowd of rowdy Wicked Club members who were jostling her around and screaming in her ear. Adriaan shook her head, marveling at the young girl's tolerance. Andora seemed to absorb all commotion like a duracrete wall.

Jordin, as usual, was babbling animatedly to Marya and Kan about something stupid. "And then he said, 'Jordin Skraps, since you are the least talkative and disruptive of the entire class, I believe it is time for you to be moved up to the next level of training.' I was so happy but unlike my boisterous comrades I remained passive and quiet and simply bowed and said, 'Thank you, most profound Master.' Just like that and then I was given a new tunic that was purple with silver lining and it was very pretty and I got a beautifully polished black krayt dragon leather belt to go with it and my boots were made of the same material and for my eleventh birthday you won't believe what I got ––– oh, hello, Master ell Talaan. Well, as I was saying…"

Marya looked at Adriaan and rolled her eyes. "Thank the Force you've finally showed up," she said. "A couple more minutes of listening to Jordin and I would've gone deaf."

"Deaf? That is immensely interesting," Jordin said. "I wonder what it feel like if I were deaf? I mean, I wouldn't be able to hear myself speak, so how would I know what I was saying? It must be incredibly dreadful to be deaf. But imagine if I was _mute_? That would be even worse…I knew one person who couldn't speak he was a Wookiee and I tried to teach him to talk but all he did was growl and roar which wasn't very fun but anyway –––"

"Another time, Padawan," Adriaan said. "I have a lot to cover for this training session, so we'd better get started now."

"Anyway, lunch break is in three hours," Klamin said brightly. "Can't miss that."

"I can," Marya and Minir muttered simultaneously. Minir started and glared at the Zabrak girl.

"Copycat!" he hissed.

Marya's dark violet eyes glared at him cooly. _If looks could kill, _Adriaan thought, _Marya would be the most feared person in the galaxy._

"What are we going to learn today, Master Ree?" Kan asked politely.

"A few weeks ago, some of you voiced the desire to learn synchronized combat," Adriaan said. "We are going to be learning how to do that today."

"Whoopee! WICKED!" the Wicked Club screamed.

"Exemplary nomination, Master," Andora said primly. "I cannot anticipate our commencement."

"How are you going to teach us?" Kay Lee asked.

Adriaan turned and smiled at her friend. "I am so glad that you asked that question, Kay," she said. "An old Jedi Master once told me that the best confidence builder is experience. Look, there's a fire."

Those words, said so calmly, were the signal Adriaan and her squad had agreed upon. Right on cue, _Punch_ force materialized from their respective positions underneath some overturned, empty crates.

Kay Lee and Marya were the first ones to turn. "What the –––"

"Shade," Adriaan said, and immediately, she felt the other half of the squad lining up behind her.

Aedan squinted at the dark-clothed figures behind Adriaan. "WICKED!" he screamed, pointing over her shoulder.

"Smile," Adriaan said, and grinned as both _Punch_ and _Kick_ forces fired practice lasers at the surrounded Padawans.

Kay Lee's training saber was out in an instant, deflecting the blue bolts as fast as they came at her. Ember, Comet, Fyre, Cor, and Storm ducked as the blasts ricocheted back at them.

"Knock," Adriaan said, and activated her training lightsaber. She charged toward Klamin and Kan, the _Kick_ force closing in around her.

"What are you doing?" Klamin yelled as he whipped out his tonfa saber to deflect her incoming attack.

"Teaching you. Now fight," Adriaan said, swinging her lightsaber slowly toward his body. She wasn't going to fight hard with mere Padawans; she didn't want to discourage them. She wanted to give them all a fair chance at winning.

"Traitor! GOOD!" Aedan yelled, rushing forward. Adriaan whipped out her left hand and Force-pulled her second lightsaber into it. She parried Aedan's attack just in time and ducked as Jordin leaped over her head.

"Wolf, howl!" Adriaan said, rolling out of the way as Klamin bore his tonfa sabers down on her.

Wolf suddenly threw his blaster pistols at Kan and rushed at Klamin, hands held up in an easily recognizable attack stance. Kay jumped into the clone's path and swung her lightsaber at his neck, but to her surprise she suddenly found Wolf's hands gripping her wrists and twisting them into an unbearable position behind her back. She yelped in pain as his foot whacked her shins as he released her from the controlled position. She fell to her hands and knees.

"Suspend him!" she commanded Marya and Kan, her voice coming out in a gasp.

"Gotcha covered, GOOD," Aedan said, stretching out a hand towards Wolf. The clone was suddenly levitated several meters in the air, vulnerable now to any lightsaber.

"Wolf, fetch!" Adriaan yelled, Force-pushing a fallen blaster pistol toward him. He caught it in his left hand and twisted around in midair.

"All right, Padawans, eat lasers!" he yelled.

"No, no!" Jahn Pal and Sai'wer wailed. "Lasers are bad for our digestive systems!"

Wolf swiveled the blaster pistols away from Aedan and fired at the cousins. To everyone's surprise, Jahn Pal and Sai'wer managed to deflect the lasers away before they were hit. Though stupid, they obviously had some sort of a connection to the Force, otherwise Adriaan doubted that they would have been able to survive for so long.

"Cut him down!" Aedan shrieked at the others as Wolf struggled in the Padawan's telekinetic hold. Kien and Nic complied by whirling away from the Fire force and charging toward the suspended clone.

"Sir! A little help!" Wolf cried as Kien's bluish-green lightsaber arced toward him.

"Hang on!" Adriaan rolled to her feet and Force-pulled Nic's and Kien's lightsabers away from them. As they turned toward her, unarmed and openmouthed in astonishment, she flipped the weapons in the air and caught them tauntingly. "I'll take these weapons away, if you don't mind," Adriaan told them. "Laser swords are not toys for little children."

"GOOD!" the Wicked Club screamed indignantly, and they all surged toward her. Using the distraction from Wolf to her own advantage, Adriaan threw both lightsabers at Aedan and Force-pulled the clone toward her at the same time. Aedan had to let go of Wolf and deflect the incoming weapons, and the clone was went flying right into Adriaan, out of harm's way.

"Thanks for the hand, Commander," Wolf said, sitting up and rolling to his feet.

"Sir, they're breaking up the line!" Vyto yelled.

"Steady, Vyto, you can pull it together. Calm your mind, and you will find a way," Adriaan called, nimbly dodging a three-sided attack from Kien, Minir, and Terry.

"Master, I thought you were supposed to be teaching us synchronized fighting!" Kan protested, leaping away from her as she swung her lightsaber in a circle around her body. "We're only doing a simulated battle exercise!"

"_Boring_!" Marya and Jordin chimed.

"Boring, eh?" Adriaan asked. "Boys, show them what Command 'Boring' is."

"Sir yes sir!" _Punch_ force immediately activated their jetpacks and soared over the heads of the Padawans, firing rapidly while _Kick_ force melted back into the shadows and switched their weapons to practice sniper rifles. Now the Apprentices had to deal with both sniper fire and attacks from above. And they were still surrounded.

Adriaan stood back with her squad and folded her arms across her chest. "Won't be long now, boys," she said with satisfaction. Unless the Padawans tuned into each other and began working together instead of leading solitary attacks, they were finished.

"Boo hoo! My knees hurt!" Jahn Pal wailed as his arms moved like lightning to deflect the blasts.

"I accidently scratched my butt when I landed on my face," Sai'wer whined, pointing to a scrape that gleamed red on his forehead.

"How come the fact that you got your butt and your head mixed up doesn't GOODLY surprise me?" Minir groaned.

"Guys, we have to come up with a plan!" Kan yelled. "We're not going to last much longer!"

"I agree," Kay said.

"Aw, you guys are just weak," Klamin panted. "As for me, they can blast all they want, but I will never get hit –––"

Suddenly a blue bolt from Wolf's blaster pistols hit him right in the chest. Kay Lee raised her eyebrows at the sheepish alien. "You were saying?"

"Give up, foolish Apprentices!" Adriaan yelled, emerging from the shadows. "There are only fourteen of you left. You are no match for the combined might of Shadow Squad and General ell Talaan!"

"You can't GOODLY defeat us! We're too WICKED!" Aedan screamed.

"Oh, but I can, and I will! Mmwa hah hah hah hah hah hah!"

"Whoa, that evil laugh sounded almost genuine," Klamin said.

"Copycat! That's _my _WICKED laugh!" Andre complained.

"That's because it _was _genuine," Adriaan said, answering Klamin. "Now, surrender peacefully, or you will suffer the humiliation of getting beaten up by clones!"

"And Adriaan," Kan added.

"Adriaan on easy mode," his Master amended. "So, do I hear a petition for a peace treaty?"

"Yes, yes!" Jahn Pal and Sai'wer wailed.

"No! GOOD!" the rest of the Wicked Club screamed.

"Surrender is a perfectly verifiable alternative; after all, it is not unfeigned evil that we are inhibiting, but rather, our own Master, who by all means is much more puissant than any of us," Andora pointed out.

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but for once, I agree with the Wicked Club," Kan said.

"Me, too," Kay agreed.

"Me three," Jordin said.

"Me, four," Klamin added.

"Your GOOD old vote doesn't count, loser," Aedan chortled. "You're the only one out. Even the GOOD old geniuses have WICKEDLY outlived you."

"Don't remind me."

Marya was the only one who hadn't spoken. Jordin jabbed the Zabrak in the ribs with her elbow.

"What?" Marya asked irritably. "Do I seriously have to make myself look like an idiot by saying, 'me five'?"

"You'd look like an even bigger idiot if you said, 'I surrender'" Kay pointed out.

"Then I guess me five. It was nice knowing you all," Marya said. "If you happen to get slashed to pieces by the mighty General ell Talaan on easy mode before I do, tell my old Master that I said hi."

"Oh, Marya, must you _always _look at the bad side of things?" Jordin asked. "Besides, even though we're about to lose our dignity, we still have each other."

"Ew, grossly GOOD!" the Wicked Club shrieked.

"No matter how desperate a situation seems, one can always find a way, if only they will look at what is left to them," Adriaan said. "Now, Shadow Squad, should we finish what we started?"

"Sir yes sir!"

"Then fire at will."

The blue bolts zipped toward the Apprentices faster than before, and the Padawans were starting to slow down in their reaction to the attacks. _Come _on, Adriaan begged, _you guys can do it!_

"Ow! Stop tickling me!" Jahn Pal said to his cousin, dropping his weapon as a laser bounced off his chest.

"You're out, Jahn Pal," Adriaan called out.

"What? I'm out where? Where are you guys?" Jahn Pal asked frantically, looking around. "Sai'wer, where are you? Are you outside, too?"

Adriaan slapped a hand on her forehead. "No, you bantha-brain, I mean that you have been eliminated from the round!" she shouted, exasperated.

"Oh. Does that mean I can eat now?"

"Eliminated? Oh, oh, I want to be eliminated!" Sai'wer yelled, dropping his lightsaber also.

"No! Stop, you idiot!" the Padawans all yelled, but it was too late. Sai'wer smiled as he was hit in the head with a blue bolt.

"I won!" he screamed, throwing his hands up in the air.

"Loser! GOOD!" the Wicked Club yelled.

"Do I hear cries for mercy?" Sai'wer asked. "I am very sorry, but as the circumstances demand, I'm afraid that I must request your surrender. Come, Jahn Pal, let us negotiate the plans for our victory parade."

The two cousins walked away arm in arm, grinning from ear to ear and completely oblivious to the disgusted glances the others gave them.

The clones kept up a steady barrage of fire. None of the Padawans were going down.

"Twelve of us against twenty clones should be easier than this!" Kan shouted above the roar of the battle.

"You forget they have Adriaan to protect them!" Kay Lee screamed back, deflecting the fire back at the enemy. But Adriaan had trained her clones well, and they were too fast.

"We've got to do something besides stand here like grazing nunas!" Marya yelled.

"But what? Whenever we charge, Adriaan just comes in and acts as a wall for the clones!" Kay yelled.

"Reach out for the Force!" Kan said. "It's our only hope!"

"Stop being so melodramatic!" Klamin shouted. He still had not left the battlefield.

"Will you just shut up, Klamin?" Kay Lee asked.

"Time's up, Padawans!" Adriaan said, activating her lightsaber and leaping for the cornered group. The Wicked Club screamed and shielded their eyes.

"Ah! She's so GOOD!" Aedan shrieked in agony.

Adriaan landed on her toes and immediately tapped Aedan and Heatrian out. The Wicked King could have easily parried her swing, but he had been too busy screaming his brains out. Without giving anyone a chance to react, she swung her lightsaber at the Wicked Club and succeeding in scoring a hit on both Kien and Minir. She had already tapped out Terry, Andre and Nic when the other Apprentices finally came to their senses and began to counter her attack.

Kay Lee Force-pushed Jordin out of the lightsaber's path, but Adriaan just twisted around and swiped at a new target: Marya. But the Zabrak girl had quick reflexes, and ducked just microseconds before the blade touched her neck. The Padawan threw her elbow into Adriaan's unprotected ribs and ducked under Adriaan's outstretched arm. She came up, jabbed her elbow again, this time into Adriaan's back, and quickly did a jumping roundhouse kick to Adriaan's calf.

"Good, Marya," Adriaan said, wincing at the blow. "But that's not the objective of the lesson."

Jordin had taken advantage of the distraction to attack the clones. Adriaan turned around just in time to watch as the girl's purple lightsaber swung for Shakir's neck.

Of course, she couldn't allow Jordin to get the kill. Summoning the Force, she lifted up a hand, stopping Jordin's arm before it completely the swing. The girl stood still in amazement, struggling against the unseen power that held her frozen.

"Shoot her!" Adriaan yelled, running toward the helpless girl, lightsaber upraised.

"No!" Suddenly, two shadowy blurs flitted over her head and landed in front of her. Two lightsabers ––– one blue and one purple ––– barred her path.

"I've got Jordin, General!" Lance yelled, withdrawing his customized sword and swinging at the paralyzed Apprentice. Adriaan released the young girl and darted forward to attack Kan and Marya. The two simultaneously leaped away from her, then shot toward her again for an attack. Adriaan parried and push-kicked Kan out of the way, but Marya drew her companion back to his feet with a Force-pull.

"Lance and Vyto are out!" Adriaan heard Jordin crow. "Come on, girls, get them!"

Kay Lee and Andora did not need a second invitation. They jumped right into the frenzy and stood back to back with Jordin, fighting with synchronized precision. Marya and Kan retreated from Adriaan and came closer to their companions, automatically adjusting to the rhythm of the other Apprentices.

"Vikk, out, Ammo, out, Jys, out…" Jordin sang.

"Enough." Adriaan raised her arm, freezing the Padawans in the middle of a swinging motion. Everyone stopped what they were doing and looked at their Master.

Still holding the Padawans in her grip, Adriaan glanced down at her wrist chrono. "Well, what do you know? It's lunchtime." She looked up and released them. "Training session adjourned. Well done."

"Thank you, sir!" Shadow Squad shouted.

"Before you go, I'd like to congratulate all of you for a successful practice," Adriaan said. "I'd be honored to fight beside you all…even the ones who got tagged. Everyone makes mistakes, and the purpose of my training you is to help you correct them. Line up."

The Apprentices and the clones stood swiftly at attention. Adriaan walked down the line.

"Ember, you did a good job leading _Punch_ force," she said, nodding at the clone. "Just work on the precision of your attacks. Rez, your performance was excellent, but you need to listen to Ember's orders. Lance, you had a nice offense, but you need to work on your defense. That's what got you tagged out. Vyto, nice hustling, but be more aware of the situation. Ammo, that was a big improvement since last practice…"

Adriaan slowly made her way through the room, careful to give everyone both praise and something they needed to work on. She wanted them all to be confident, but not overly so. Finally, she made it down to the last five ––– Klamin, Andora, Kay, Marya, and Kan. Klamin looked particularly downcast, and had shapeshifted into a Jawa to express his disappointment.

"Klamin, even though you failed to work with the other Padawans to survive, you still did well, considering you've only been an Apprentice for a year," she said. "You are a very outgoing, social person; use that to your advantage. We must not rely completely upon ourselves for survival. I've tried it, and trust me, it doesn't work very well."

Klamin seemed to brighten at this. "Yeah, I rock! Up top, brotha!" he said, raising his hand at Aedan.

The Wicked King sniffed. "High-fives are GOOD," he said.

"Boo-yah, Aedan! WICKED high-five!" Terry screamed, holding up his own hand. Aedan grinned and gave his second-in-command a high-five.

Adriaan rolled her eyes and moved down the line. "Andora, you never lost your focus, even for an instant. Not only that, you used your brain to figure out how to get out of a desperate situation. That's the kind of attitude that will help us win this war."

"I ebulliently proclaim my appreciation for such an undeservingly meritorious evaluation, honored Master," Andora said, bowing pompously. "Is there anything that I can do to further ameliorate my substandard aptitude?"

Adriaan scrutinized the girl's stiff, unbending posture for a moment. "Just try to relax," she sighed, turning to Kay.

"You successfully collaborated with your teammates to help you survive longer," she said. "However, several times you were rude to the others. Never lose your patience."

Adriaan looked at the last two. "As for Kan and Marya, I would like to especially commend you both for putting aside your differences and working together," she said with approval. "I honestly did not expect you two to pull it off, but you did. Congratulations."

"Does that mean that Marya and Kan have finally forgiven each other and become friends?" Jordin asked. "Oh, how splendid! Now the three of us can be best friends and do _everything _together…FOREVER! Isn't this exciting? Oh, Kan, I am so glad that you have stopped being rude to Marya and Marya I am so glad that you have stopped being nasty to Kan because you are both my friends and it always made me sad when you guys always argued and –––"

"Shut up!" Marya and Kan said at the same time. They both looked at each other and glared, hardly looking like close comrades.

"Ooh, I sense a bond forming between them!" Jordin giggled. "They're working so nicely together to make me shut up!" Suddenly her smile disappeared. "Though I must say, that wasn't really nice of them to gang up on me like that. I hate it when people do that I mean honestly how would you guys feel if _I _ganged up on you one time I did and I was sorry afterwards it is a most enthralling story…"


	5. Lunchtime and Rainbow Platoon

**Whoever survived Adriaan's rigorous training session in the previous chapter gets lunch in the mess hall! Sure, the galley may smell like a Taun-taun, but at least the food is good (or not). If you liked/hated this chapter especially, please review!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own _Star Wars, _though I wish I did.**

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Chapter 5

Meals on Republic transports were never very good. And, in Kan's opinion, eating with a bunch of clones was even worse. So he wasn't really looking forward to lunchtime, despite the fact that he had just had a rigorous training session with his even more rigorous Master, and had had nothing but a protein pellet for breakfast that day.

"What's for lunch, Adriaan?" Kan heard Klamin ask.

_How come Klamin can call her Adriaan when I can't? _Kan thought bitterly. _I know he's older than me, but I'm on a much higher level than him. It's not fair._

"Food," Adriaan replied dryly.

"Food? Oh GOOD; I was hoping they'd make something more digestible, like liquified metal," the Pyronite complained. Being a strange alien species, Heatrian took nourishment from things like rocks and piles of scrap metal. "You humans and other creatures have weird, GOOD tastes. You disgust me."

"Hmm, you mean to say that rocks are actually WICKED to eat?" Aedan asked curiously.

"Well, I suppose _I _should know, since that's all I've eaten my whole WICKED life," Heatrian said huffily.

"I'll have to WICKEDLY try that," Aedan said. "Guys, we've got to lay off the GOOD old bantha jerky and stick to heartier, WICKEDER stuff, like molten metal and rocks," he said to the others. "Thanks for the WICKED info, Heatrian."

"Yeah, _thanks," _Minir said, hardly looking or sounding like he was going to relish the thought of eating rocks.

"No offense, but I think the food on Republic cruisers taste like bantha fodder," Jordin whispered to Kan and Marya. Kan nodded in assent, but Marya rolled her eyes.

"You're just being picky," she said grumpily. "A real Jedi doesn't care how anything tastes."

"Can they care about how something smells, though?" Jordin asked. "Oh, I hope that I am allowed to care because my olfactory senses are so sensitive one time there was a toxic gas leak and it was terrible because no one smelled it but me and I saved them all by getting them to evacuate the building but then it turned out that it wasn't toxic gas at all it was just exhaust from an overheated droid and everyone got mad and I don't know why because I was trying to save them and I think that was very rude of them to –––"

Kan suddenly gagged as the smell of the mess hall seeped through his nostrils and down his throat. He began to cough.

"Oh please, if you're going to vomit, don't do it on me; this is a new tunic that I'm wearing," Marya snapped.

Personally, Kan wished that he _was _going to throw up, so then he could get vomit all over Marya, but fortunately, he recovered from the horrible stench in time.

"What do they live in, a bantha stall?" Kan wondered.

"How can they stand living in such a stink?" Jordin wondered. "It must be awful, having to smell that all the time. I wonder what Master Adriaan thinks of this stench? She's probably disappointed that they have such a poor sense of hygiene. Maybe she's going to lecture them about keeping their living space clean. This will be interesting." She giggled, just as she always did whenever she got to finish one of her extremely long speeches.

Ahead of them, Adriaan inhaled deeply. "Ah, just smell it, Apprentices," she said loudly. "This strong stench is the reek of sweaty, blood-shedding, hardworking men. This has got to be my favorite smell, second only to the odor of the exhaust from an overheating Plunk droid."

Jordin's mouth practically dropped all the way down to her chest.

The galley of the _Fortitude _wasn't such a messy place, considering that it could fit almost an entire legion inside. If only the menu had been more appealing, Kan might've actually been looking forward to eating. He could simply avoid looking at the clones; he had been doing that for over a year. But, like the clone's faces, he still hadn't gotten used to the crummy meals they served in Republican frigates.

He automatically picked up a durasteel tray ––– which was still wet from the last wash ––– and slid it along the counter like the rest, taking care not to recoil at what was slopped onto his plate. Some gray, gluey stuff quivered and made a dull _plopping _sound as it was dished out onto the tray. Next to it was thrown something that was a sickly green color and smelled like dried spink leaves that had been harshly boiled and then strained through a food processor.

_That is probably what it is, _Kan thought, _and as for that gray stuff…well, I can only hope that it's just pure protein or something._

Then a liquid that was even greener than the mashed up stuff was sloshed into his mug. Kan leaned over and sniffed at the contents, then stifled a gag as Marya turned back to glare at him.

"Spink juice," he muttered.

"An excellent source of vitamins," a voice said from behind. Kan turned to face the clone who had spoken.

The soldier was part of Shadow Squad; Kan knew that because he looked more like a boy than a man. All the members of Shadow Squad had been taken from their homeworld, Kamino, when they were still young and untrained. This clone was visibly different from the others, having black hair shot with silver streaks that he had dyed in, and eyes that were unusually large and bright for a clone of Jango Fett's.

_ Wolf, _Kan thought, remembering Adriaan address the clone by that name.

"Unfortunately, spink contains too much nutrition and too little good taste," the clone called Wolf said gravely. As usual, he didn't smile, but it still made Kan feel a little strange.

Kan looked back at the unappetizing meal in front of him. "How can you choke this stuff down everyday?" he asked queasily.

"Just don't look at it when you're eating," Wolf advised. "That's how I survive on it."

Kan wasn't sure whether to trust the word of a clone, but he figured he had better eat something, or he wouldn't have enough strength to make it through the rest of the day.

So, sitting down at the first available seat, he took a forkful of the gray stuff, closed his eyes, and shoved it down his throat.

Two seconds later, he had his head bent over the tray, gagging and spitting up the food. Much to his embarrassment, the Wicked Club, Marya, Jordin, Kay and Klamin burst into giggles. Then something even worse happened.

The clones began to laugh at him, too.

"Pretty good stuff this processed junk is, eh, Commander?" Rez chuckled.

"Kan is a wimp! Kan is a wimp! GOOD!" the Wicked Club chanted.

"Stop laughing!" Kan sputtered. "It's not funny!"

"Oh, dear Kan, will you ever understand that we are not laughing _at _you; we're laughing _with _you?" Jordin giggled. "Poor Kan, you were always so sensitive to teasing. Hey, has anyone ever heard about the time when Kan forgot to study for his Clan semester test and he had to stand up and recite the Seven Forms of Jedi Combat?"

"I haven't heard that one," Marya said, sitting up in her chair and grinning evilly. "Tell us about it."

"Tell us! Tell us! WICKED!" the Wicked Club screamed, crowding around closer.

"Well, when he went up there to speak…oh, I am getting ahead of myself. Well, the reason why he hadn't studied in the first place was because he had a pedisphere game with Zett Jukassa ––– do you all know Zett? ––– well anyway, he had three days to study and the first day he played pedisphere even when I warned him not to but of course he didn't listen and the second day I woke him up early to study but do you know what he did? He went off swimming in the lake with the Bear Clan and by the third day he hadn't even looked at the Seven Forms of Combat so when he was called up to recite he said –––"

"Shut up!" Kan yelled, startling the girl into silence.

"Boo! GOOD!" the Wicked Club complained.

"Kan, I don't recall that that was what you said when you got up there. No, you said something entirely different," Jordin said. "Furthermore, that was most unkind of you to interrupt I was only telling a little story to the boys…"

Kan stood up and stormed away in disgust. To his further discomfort, Wolf and Ember followed him.

"Sorry about that, sir," Wolf said sympathetically. "I forgot what an unpleasant shock it was when I first tasted the stuff."

"It's all right," Kan mumbled, throwing his tray back on the counter and hollering for the cook. "Hey! Chef! Do you call this glob of glue food?"

"I fear I must correct you, sir," a cook droid wheeled into view. "That mass of nutrients is not glue, though it retains the appearance of that material."

"Then what the heck is this stuff?" Kan demanded.

The droid hesitated. "Perhaps it is best that you do not know what you are consuming," it advised.

"Maybe it's best if I don't eat it at all," Kan remarked.

"I do not advise that," the droid protested. "These meals are approved by the Intergalactic Association of Standard Fitness and Health. It provides all the nutrients that are essential to your well being. So, if you please –––"

"I'm out of here." Kan was already halfway out the door. "I have no idea what you think you're serving us, but it's just not right. We are warriors, and mealtime is the one time of day that we all get to sit down and be together. It should be something we can enjoy, and I doubt even the Wicked Club could have fun eating these globs of glue that you're throwing at us."

"You're right, WICK-Kan!" Aedan said, waving a fist-sized rock in his hand. "That's why we've been WICKEDLY eating rocks!"

"See? Even the Wicked Club ––– the most disgusting group of boys in the universe ––– would rather eat rocks than this junk," Kan pointed out.

"I am a droid; I can only do what my programming specifies," the droid complained.

Unexpectedly, a new voice joined the argument. "We spend our whole day blasting clankers," a clone said. "Why do we have to deal with them at mealtime, too?"

Some of the other clones nodded and began to murmur amongst themselves.

Adriaan sauntered over. "What's going on here, Rez?" she asked, looking at the clone.

"General." Rez drew himself up and saluted. "Me and Captain Enik here were just giving this worn-out pile of circuits a hard time." He glared meaningfully at the droid.

"Kan?" his Master turned and looked at him expectantly.

"It's true, Master," Kan said. "I know that this food is supposed to be good for our bodies, but it's not helping to boost the morale of the clone legions. Or me, for that matter."

"General, I suggest that you allow me to melt down this scrap pile and give us a real cook," Rez said, withdrawing a small blaster pistol from its holster.

"I agree with getting rid of the bad food, but do you think it's really necessary to melt the droid down, soldier?" Ember asked.

"Well, I would feel a lot better if I knew this clanker wasn't around to torture anyone else," Rez said.

"That is against regulations, clone," the droid chirped nervously. "I have been officially designated as the chef droid by Kaminoan Health Inspector Ki-Lo –––"

By now, Kan could tell that his Master was beginning to lose patience. "Request granted, Rez," she said, striding forward with lightsaber activated and slicing the droid in half in one swift motion. The hapless robot fell into a pile of smoking rubble as everyone in the room turned and stared in astonished silence at what their impetuous General had done.

Rez grinned and clapped Adriaan on the back. "Well done, General."

She looked at the clone and smiled. "Well done, indeed…One-seven-three-four," she said. The two of them chuckled, as if by addressing him by his number, she had just made an immensely humorous joke. Everyone knew that Adriaan never called a clone by his number unless she was either very angry or just didn't know him.

Ember kicked at the fallen droid. "Perhaps the job was _too_ well done, Commander," he said.

"Eh?" Adriaan cocked an eyebrow at him.

"I think he's trying to point out that we don't have anyone in charge of feeding the clones in the mess hall now," Kan said.

"No problem." Adriaan shrugged nonchalantly, turning to her other Padawans. Much to everyone's surprise, she pointed a finger at the Wicked Club.

"You," she said, addressing the entire group of dirty, flea-scratching boys. "Idiots, numbskulls, morons…whatever you want to be called. I need one of you to –––"

Aedan stuck a finger up his nose and fished out a gigantic booger. "The correctly WICKED form of address is 'Hey, you WICKED morons'" he interrupted.

"I don't have time for that –––" Adriaan began, but Jahn Pal and Sai'wer immediately cut her off by loudly chanting a dull, listless tune.

"W-I-C-K-E-D spells GOOD, and G-O-O-D spells WICKED," they sang. "Put your right index finger in, put your right index finger out. Put your left index finger in, and fish a booger right out! You do the boogy-woogy and eat boogers all around…"

Adriaan visibly flinched. "Hey, you WICKEDS!" she shouted. The boys immediately perked up and made eye contact with her.

"Yes, GOOD?" Aedan asked.

"Which one of you is the cook?" Adriaan asked. "Na'thin, right?"

"Na'thin _was _the WICKED snack-snatcher," Aedan sniffed. "He died a hero's death."

"Na'thin is our WICKED hero!" the club screamed.

"Oops." Adriaan had momentarily forgotten that sometime last year, during their station in the Syleeto system, she had lost one of her Apprentices ––– a bright young member of the Wicked Club called Na'thin. He had died in a heroic attempt to save the ruler of Syleeto from an angry planetary mob and a legion of droids. Though the Wicked Club believed that anyone who died was a GOOD, they made an exception for poor Na'thin, saying that as long as one died fighting, one was WICKED.

"I'm sorry," Adriaan said. "Who's the wicked cook now, though? Is it you, Nic?"

"Not WICKED old Nic!" Andre said huffily. "He burns everything he WICKEDLY tries to cook."

"Including fire," Jahn Pal said brightly. Adriaan rolled her eyes and pointed at Minir Voss.

"How about you, Apprentice Voss?"

"The last thing I fried was the last person who GOODLY aggravated me," Minir said threateningly. "Heatrian's the GOOD old cook."

"The Pyronite?" Adriaan looked at the fire being and shook her head.

"Well, he _is _the WICKEDEST cook," Aedan said. "He doesn't even need an oven."

"Or a deep-frier," Kien added.

"Or a toaster," Terry said.

"Or an ice-cube maker," Sai'wer said, smiling innocently.

Adriaan sighed. "Why does that not surprise me?" she muttered to herself. She jerked a thumb at the Pyronite. "You ––– Heatrian J'Oli. What can you make?"

"Rocks," Heatrian said promptly. "And lava. And ash."

Adriaan slapped a hand to her forehead. "Can you cook man-food?"

"Sure," Heatrian said, shrugging.

"What type of man-food?" she asked cautiously.

"WICKED food," Aedan snapped. "Like bantha-burgers."

"And root chips."

"And ikopi kabobs."

"And WICKED A'jula fruit pie," Nic said, smacking his lips.

"And iced bantha milk!" the cousins added, but no one acknowledged that they heard them.

"Okay, Heatrian, you've got yourself a job," Adriaan said, waving a hand. "Get busy."

The Pyronite nodded and ducked into the kitchen. The clones and the other labor droids that kept the mess hall in operation all looked at Adriaan expectantly, wondering what they should do next. Adriaan gestured with a touch of impatience toward the trash bins.

"Throw that stuff away; lunch will be served in an hour, maybe. You droids, go help the Pyronite," she said. "Everyone else resume duties –––"

"Oh, there is no GOOD need for all that," Aedan interrupted. "Heatrian is a WICKEDLY fast chef. He can cook many WICKED things at one time."

"Enough for a legion?" Adriaan asked.

"Of course, you idiot!" Aedan said confidently. "He's a Pyronite ––– he can heat a cooking pot that can hold a full-sized, WICKED krayt dragon, if he wants to. Besides, he's got all those chef droids to WICKEDLY assist him."

"I'll believe it when I see it," Adriaan said, obviously not convinced. She went over to the counter and refilled her cup with some fizzade, then jerked a chin at Kan to follow her to the tables. Kan followed a little reluctantly, sensing that Adriaan was going to pick a table with a lot of clones sitting at it.

He was right. Adriaan plunked her mug on the table where the elite squad had gathered and gestured at Kan to take the empty seat between Tau and Delta. He did, keeping himself from touching the clones on either side. Adriaan herself dropped down between Wolf and Ember and immediately joined the chatter at the table.

"It's lucky that we have that Pyronite to cook lunch," Ember said. "With all due respect, General, you shouldn't have carved up that chef droid. You're not going to have your own Apprentice take over the job of feeding the entire brigade, are you?"

"Relax, Ember," Adriaan said easily, taking a swig from her mug. "I thought through this very carefully. Heatrian will cook for today, and unless you all want a replacement head chef clanker, you boys are going to have to learn how to cook."

"Not a bad idea," Rez said, chugging down a glass of fizzade "The only problem is that the kitchen is stocked with that junk. There's no _real_ food in there."

"We can easily order shipments of things like nerf strips and vacuum-packed fruits and candy bars," Adriaan pointed out.

"Hey, if the kitchen isn't stocked with anything right now, what is the Pyronite going to make?" Wolf asked.

Kan's Master shrugged. "Oh, I'm sure there are some vegetables in there that haven't been processed into gloop yet," she said. "Don't worry; most of my Padawans are pretty dependable. Hey! Marya! Andora! Klamin! Go help Heatrian get lunch ready!" she shouted. The Apprentices leaped to their feet and raced into the kitchen.

"That should take care of things," Adriaan said, leaning back in her chair.

"Thank you, General," Ember said. "We're trained not to complain, but I'm sure everyone will be glad for a change in diet."

"I didn't do much," Adriaan admitted. "It was my Apprentice, Kan, that first stood up for you guys. Thank him for his…intolerance of trashy food."

"Thanks for the support, Captain," Ember said, turning to acknowledge Kan. Kan shrugged sullenly and stared at the table.

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Ember exchange a look of ––– sadness? ––– with his Master.

"I guess I forgot to teach my Apprentices manners," she murmured, shooting a disappointed look at Kan.

"Aw, the kid's probably just hungry," Rez said, slapping Kan heartily on the back. He raised his glass of Corellian ale. "A toast to Captain Enik for his intolerance of trashy food for the troops!"

"Here!" the clones shouted deafeningly, clinking their mugs together and drinking to Kan.

"Captain Kan! Captain Kan! Captain Kan!" Shadow Squad cheered, drumming the table with their fists.

"WICKED Kan! WICKED Kan! WICKED Kan!" the Wicked Club screamed in unison, dancing on their tables.

"Sit down," Kan said, but his voice was drowned by the tumult.

Adriaan grinned sideways at him. "I sense a bond forming between you and the clones," she said approvingly. "That's good. You'll never regret earning their loyalty, Kan. Needless to say, I'm very proud of you. After all, I know it is no easy thing for you to forget who they were cloned from…"

"I will never forget," Kan said abruptly, but his Master, fortunately, did not hear his remark. The Wicked Club started to shriek as Heatrian appeared at the counter and waved a ladle in the air.

"Lunch is ready! The WICKEDEST get served first!" he yelled.

That, of course, meant that Aedan got to be at the front of the line. He took a long time making his way to the counter, though…probably just to make sure everyone noticed that he was the WICKEDEST.

"What's for lunch, WICKED?" he asked, holding his bowl up to Heatrian.

"WICKED vegetable soup," Heatrian answered.

Aedan frowned. "Vegetables are GOOD."

"Well, that was all the stockroom GOODLY had," Heatrian said apologetically.

"Um, that's okay, WICKED; vegetable soup is fine," Terry said, eyeing the bowl hungrily.

"No, it's not," Aedan said. "It's GOOD for us. We want WICKED food. _Now."_

"Of course." The Pyronite began to look a little concerned. He shakily withdrew a rock from his stomach and placed it in Aedan's bowl. "Here's some WICKED rock for you."

Aedan's eyes lit up immediately. "WICKED!" he screamed, grabbing the other rocks Heatrian held out and throwing them at his club, who screamed and scattered in terror. "Here's lunch, WICKEDS!" he shrieked at them. "Make sure you thank WICKED Heatrian for his WICKEDNESS!"

"Thanks, Heatrian," Minir huffed, looking at his chunk of obsidian with distaste.

The clones began to form an orderly line at the counter; some went to refill their drinks while the rest held their bowls out to the Pyronite, who ladled a steaming, wholesome broth to each one. As they all sat down again, a murmur of satisfaction rippled through the crowd. And when Kan finally dipped his spoon into the appetizing soup and tasted it, he had to agree with the clones. It _was _much better than processed plants. In fact, it was downright delicious.

"Good job, Heatrian," Kan said, waving his spoon in the air. But the Pyronite glared, and Kan soon realized why and amended his statement. "I mean…_WICKED_ job, WICKED one."

Adriaan was the only one who did not eat. Wolf, Shakir, Ember and Cor had just finished repainting their armor, and she was going over their work with a critical eye.

She nodded in approval at the simple fiery design above the T-mask on Ember's helmet. "Reminds me of flames," she murmured, looking over at the clone. "Matches your name well, Ember."

Shakir's was almost the same, except that it was blue instead of red. "Excellent," Adriaan said. She picked up Cor's helmet and turned it over in her hand. "Keep your T-mask clean, Cor," she said. "The paint scheme matches the colors of Invader Regiment, though the design is different. That's good; it gives you a more uniform appearance when you're in formation, yet sets you off as an individual as well."

She paused as Wolf eagerly put his helmet into her hands.

It was the most elaborately painted of them all. Using simple blue and black lines, he had created a mesmerizing geometric pattern that covered every square centimeter of his armor. It was such an eye-rubbing pattern that Kan couldn't stop looking at it.

"Wolf, this is…fantastic," Adriaan said, the awe evident in her voice. "How did you do that?"

"Back on Kamino, I read something about how some beings develop complicated patterns on their skin that confuses predators," Wolf explained. "That's where I got the idea. The pattern is rather mesmerizing, isn't it?"

"The effect can certainly be used to an advantage," Adriaan agreed. "That pattern could make any clanker's eye sensors malfunction."

"Hey, Ember!" a clone belonging to the one hundred and ninety-second Regiment ––– Soresu, the contingent assigned to Kan ––– called. "How come the other members of Shadow Squad don't have flames painted on their helmets?"

Ember shrugged. "General ell Talaan told us to be creative."

"Maybe you got to be _too _creative," the clone answered. "You guys look like you marched through a speeder repainting factory."

The clones all began to laugh.

"Where's the uniform appearance?" Another clone asked jokingly. "You don't look like you all belong to the same Platoon."

"Hey, don't make fun of the poor boys," a clone who worked on the command bridge said. "They belong to Rainbow Platoon; that's why their armor is all the colors of the rainbow."

This time, the whole galley erupted into roaring fits of laughter.

Obviously, the Shadow Squad was used to being the butt of all jokes, for they heartily joined in the laughter, too. Even Shakir ––– who tended to be solemn ––– was wearing a grin on his face.

"Rainbow Platoon," Adriaan chuckled. "A much nicer name than Shadow Squad, eh, Ember? Why didn't we think of that one?"

"Yeah, aren't _we _supposed to be the creative ones?" Rez asked, grinning as his remark caused the other clones to break out in hysterics.


	6. Unwelcome Help

**_Kandosii! _(For those who are not Mando'a-savvy, _Kandosii _can be translated as "Wicked") Ready for a new chapter? When you're done, please...well, you probably know what I'm about to ask by now. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own _Star Wars, _though nearly all the characters in this book (obviously not Grievous or any of the Jedi Council members) are mine. **

**Note: A Shi'Odo is distinct from a Shi'ido, being that a Shi'Odo has greater dexterity as a shapeshifter. For example, Klamin is only fifteen, but he can already shapeshift into, well...let's just say more creatures than is normal for a shapeshifter his age. The credit to creating the Shi'Odo species actually goes to one of my friends, who kindly let me use the alien in my book series. If anyone wants a more detailed explanation on the differences between the two types of changelings, tell me, and I will be happy to explain.**

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Chapter 6

Asteroid XO251B was a small world with just enough atmosphere to sustain lifeforms, but the climate was so incredibly windy and bitterly cold and unpleasant, many beings chose not to live there. It certainly was not a tourist attraction; in fact, Kay Lee could not see at all how it could possibly even be partially colonized. It was on the edge of Wild Space, close to Hypori, and that made Kay Lee worry that perhaps Adriaan had been right after all. She usually was, and that sort of drove Kay Lee and the older Apprentices nuts. After all, their Master _was _only seventeen.

Kay Lee drew her dark blue cape closer around her shoulders, bracing herself against the freezing cold as she stepped onto the ramp of the _Republic's Hope. _Adriaan was wearing a nontraditional Jedi tunic that had three-quarter length sleeves. She had red leather combat gloves, and clone armor covering her upper body. Kay Lee could tell her Master was trying hard not to shiver.

"Your cloak, General," Wolf shouted ––– he had to yell because the wind drowned out almost all noise ––– tossing her maroon cape to her. Adriaan caught it and threw it over her shoulders.

"Thanks, Wolf!" she yelled, her voice getting carried away in the wind.

"WICKED!" Aedan screamed, delighting in the sound of his voice as it rushed off in the gale. "Hey, WICKEDS, scream! It's WICKEDLY fun!"

The Wicked Club immediately began to yell, laughing hysterically as their chants of "wicked" floated upward and away. Only Minir did not join in the childish game.

"MOMMY!" Jahn Pal giggled.

"MY NAME IS JAHN PAL," Sai'wer shouted.

"MY NAME IS SAI'WER!" Jahn Pal screamed.

"BANTHA DROPPINGS ARE DELICIOUS!" Sai'wer shrieked.

"WE STINK!" the cousins shouted together.

"WILL YOU TWO BE QUIET?!" Minir yelled.

"Ooh, good one, Minir," Sai'wer said, clapping his hands with delight.

"He's good at this game," Jahn Pal agreed, sucking his thumb placidly.

"Game? What the GOOD makes screaming into the wind a _game_?" Minir demanded.

"Our voices get blown away," Jahn Pal said.

"It's cool," Sai'wer added. "Try it, Minir."

"MINIR IS A GOOD!" Andre and Nic screamed, capering around the raging boy.

"WICKED!" Terry and Heatrian shouted, giving each other a high five. Terry let out a yelp of pain and immediately stuck his hand in his mouth.

"Oops, sorry, ol' WICKED," Heatrian apologized, glaring at the hand that had burned Terry.

Suddenly, Minir's face brightened, and he put on a crafty look. "Hey, WICKEDS, did you ever wonder why this place is called 'Blowaway'?"

Kien stopped dancing. "But I thought it was WICKEDLY called Asteroid XO251B."

"Oh, that's what stupid GOODS call it," Minir said smoothly. "Well-informed WICKEDS call it 'blowaway' Do you know why?"

"Yeah," Aedan said. "It's because our WICKED voices are carried away by the wind, and it's a game that's WICKEDLY guaranteed to blow WICKEDS away."

"Yeah, WICKED King! WICKED!" the Wicked Club shouted.

"Well, that is true…but that is not the only GOOD reason," Minir said, lowering his voice.

Aedan's ears pricked up. He loved mysteries. "Why, WICKED?"

"They say that Asteroid Blowaway is a graveyard for many careless WICKEDS…"

"Hey, WICKEDS don't die!' Terry protested.

"Na'thin did!" Minir said sharply, and that silenced them all.

"How is it a graveyard?" Aedan asked finally.

"Because…" Minir let the word hang in the air to add suspense, "…because if the WICKEDS let their voices get carried away by the wind, the WICKEDS get sucked into a black hole, where they will never have WICKED hope of getting out!"

"NO!!!!" Jahn Pal and Sai'wer crumpled to the ground, terrified.

"Sai'wer, I'm too young to get sucked into a black hole!" Sai'wer wailed, clinging to his cousin.

"Jahn Pal, I'm too fat to get sucked into a black hole," Jahn Pal cried in the same tone of voice.

The cousins looked at each other. "Boo-hoo!"

The other members of the Wicked Club stared silently at Minir for several moments.

"COOL! WICKED!" Aedan yelled, pounding his chest. "Everyone! Scream as WICKEDLY loud as you can!"

"W-W-W-W-W-W-W-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-C-C-C-C-C-C-C-K-K-K-K-K-K-K-E-E-E-E-E-E-E-D-D-D-D-D-D-D!!!"

"Silence, bumptious striplings," Andora commanded, appearing at the top of the ramp majestically. "This is a precarious situation that must by all means be monitored by proficient life forms."

"Speaking of which, Shakir, activate sensors at highest sensitivity from incoming signals from power units," Adriaan said over the noise of the wind and the Wicked Club howling in their ears. "Storm, set your scanners for lifeforms. Whatever is living here should know if Grievous came by."

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Adriaan seriously did not get it. After two weeks of searching through Wild Space, they had not found a single trace of the cyborg general. A bio-droid like Grievous should be easier to track, Adriaan reasoned. So why hadn't they found him yet?

A pinprick of doubt shivered down her spine. What if Kay Lee had been right? What if Adriaan really had been wrong about Grievous being too scared to travel through the Nebula? It was possible, of course, for an Apprentice to occasionally guess correctly where a Master had failed. But it was unusual. Kay would be sure to never let it go.

Adriaan did not want to give up so easily. Wild Space formed a large piece of the galaxy. She couldn't possibly search every single inhabitable location in the region in just two weeks. It could very well take her years.

But the Republic didn't have years to find the droid General. By that time, the war would probably be over…and most likely with the Republic being the losers.

Adriaan _did _have over ten cruisers to command. She also had fifteen Padawans, six of whom she could trust to operate alone. Well, maybe five; she definitely couldn't see Klamin commanding a mission on his own. The thought made her shudder. But perhaps she wasn't putting enough faith in the abilities of Klamin or the Wicked Club; after all, they had handled solo missions before. But if they happened to be the ones to find General Grievous, could she count on them to stand back and wait for her to come with reinforcements? Adriaan didn't think so. They would no doubt rush headlong in hand-to-hand combat with the General, and die swiftly.

So that left Andora, Kay Lee, Kan, Marya, Jordin, and herself. Six teams searching Wild Space instead of just one. That would help them cover area much, much faster. Yes, that was the way to go about it.

But just to make sure, maybe she'd better ask the Council for advice.

Ember and Kay, her assistant officers, awaited her orders patiently. That is, the clone was waiting patiently, while the Padawan was beginning to get antsy. Kay Lee had never been the passive type.

"Set coordinates for Cloak of the Sith?" the assistant trainer asked.

The girl seriously wasn't going to give up on that floating graveyard, was she? Adriaan still couldn't quite believe that the Grievous that she knew would be brave or stupid enough to hide in that nebulosity; it was too risky. Even Aedan would think twice about traveling through a nebula…if he ever bothered to think at all.

Adriaan shook her head. Kay raised her eyebrows and shrugged, a grin tugging at the corners of her mouth. Adriaan had a sneaking suspicion that Kay was _enjoying _the fruitless search as much as Adriaan hated it.

"We're done for today," she said abruptly. "You may all retire for the night."

Kay nodded. "Shall we save a place for you at the mess hall?" she asked.

"No," Adriaan said. "I don't know when I'll be done, so don't bother saving a place. I'll see you later."

The Padawan's brows furrowed with concern. "What are you going to do?'

"Something I haven't done in over a year," Adriaan answered, striding off to her quarters, "ask the Council for guidance."

"Really? Well, good luck."

Adriaan was not scared; sure, the Council could be grave and formidable, but she had long since gotten over her fear of them. It was just going to be awkward, asking them for help. Adriaan had never been very good at that sort of thing.

She opened the door to her quarters and walked over to her desk, switching on the internal comlink. To her surprise, she found a text communication from Coruscant. Curious, she accessed it and scanned the message.

_Contact the Jedi Council immediately._

They were perhaps going to request a report. Adriaan shrugged and, probably for the first time in her life, did what the message requested.

Yoda, Obi-Wan Kenobi, and Mace Windu shimmered into view.

Adriaan bowed. "I was just on my way to contact you when you sent the message. There has been no trace of General Grievous, and I am considering splitting up the fleet and covering a wider area."

"This failure was not unexpected," Mace Windu began.

"Failure? I have not failed…I promise you that I will find him soon," Adriaan protested.

Windu held up a hand. "As I said, this failure was not unexpected, not because of your inability as a tracker, but because of Grievous' ability to disappear. He is a Master at hiding. He is a coward."

"I agree with that description of him," Adriaan conceded. "So, I suppose that since you have already anticipated my failure, you have formulated a brilliant strategy to aid in my success in a second search?"

"Very perceptive, General ell Talaan," Kenobi said, speaking for the first time. "However, this tactic does not involve separating your fleet or dispersing your Padawans across the galaxy."

"Then you have, indeed, received new reports on Grievous that can help us pinpoint his current location?" Adriaan asked eagerly.

The Jedi looked at each other.

"Not exactly," Kenobi admitted. "But we have been contacted by a civilian Republic commander that has been operating in the Hypori vicinity…"

"Wait a second…a civilian commander? I have never heard of such a thing."

"A non-Jedi officer," Obi-wan explained patiently.

"Oh. A clone. Probably from the five oh first…Skywalker's legion. They're supposed to be the most effective legion in the Galactic Republic, so it would not surprise me if one of his clones became a general…"

"Oh, clones couldn't possibly be described as _civilians,_" Obi-wan said. "In fact, General Chun-be hasn't had clone reinforcements for over six months now. He has recruited beings from all corners of the Outer Rim…especially those from the Goba Shag system, since he is a good friend with the ruler of Goba Shag, Queen Naa-ja…"

Adriaan stiffened as the familiar names rolled from Kenobi's tongue.

"Sir," she said hoarsely, struggling with the emotions that bubbled up inside her. "Are you referring to Darc Chun-be, the former Padawan of Twyla Arelan?"

"We are," Mace Windu said, watching her closely.

Adriaan opened her mouth to speak, found her mouth too dry, swallowed, and tried again. "Are you aware," she said finally, "of my current relations to the said Chun-be?"

"To purge grief with hatred, the Jedi way, it is not," Yoda told her gently.

"It is also not the way of the Jedi to dwell on the past," Adriaan said as politely as she could. She didn't want to start another fight. "How can you expect me to say that I am Master ell Talaan when you force me to remember that I am also _Ree, _the dark Apprentice of an even darker Master?"

"What choices we made in the past shapes us into what we are now," Obi-wan told her. "Master Adriaan would not exist without her being Apprentice Ree first. The Jedi do not dwell in the past…but neither do they forget it."

"If ones choices were not honorable in the past, perhaps it is better that they forget, lest regret force them to walk darker ways."

"Well, you obviously made _some_ right choices, otherwise you wouldn't be here right now," Windu pointed out. It was probably the closest thing to a compliment she had ever gotten from him.

"You would probably now be dead, because you would have been our enemy, and we would have had to kill you," Obi-wan added.

"Or vice versa," Adriaan said with a grim smile. "Now, benevolent Masters, I fear that I have taken your minds off the subject. Suppose we turn back to this business about the failed Apprentice…"

"General ell Talaan, you know perfectly well that Darc Chun-be left the Order of his _own _free will, not because he was expelled," Windu said sternly.

Adriaan waved a hand dismissively. "But isn't that the worst failure of all, to give up of your own free will instead of dying in the process of trying to succeed?"

"A matter of small importance, that is," Yoda said.

"The only thing you must worry about is how to cooperate with Darc Chun-be once he joins you in your quest," Obi-wan said. "The galaxy is counting on your willingness to put aside your prejudices and work with him to achieve success."

"I admit that he is superior in the art of tracking those who cannot be found," Adriaan admitted. "But since he is no longer experienced in the ways of the Force, he may hinder instead of help us."

"Darc Chun-be was once considered to be the Chosen One, before his parentage was revealed and Skywalker discovered," Obi-wan said. "I have my doubts that someone as connected to the Force as he was lapsing into forgetfulness of it."

They were getting into an argument now, and even though Adriaan knew she needed to back down now before it got out of hand, her pride prompted her to protest further.

"I fear I must correct your esteemed opinion, Kenobi, but I alone out of everyone that exists in this galaxy can truly say that I _know _Darc Chun-be. He is too proud of his nobility to pursue dishonorable causes, and there cannot be any honorable reason for him to keep his Force skills sharp. Besides, it has been nearly three years since his retirement, so it is highly likely that he has changed since leaving the strict regulations of the Order."

"If that is the case, you cannot possibly say that you are close to him, since he has no doubt changed since your last meeting with him," Obi-wan remarked.

Adriaan winced at how her words had trapped her. Her shoulders dropped in defeat. "Then I have nothing else to object."

"Well, _that_ is a first," Obi-wan said, which wasn't very polite of him. Adriaan did not see what gave him the authority to say that, since he didn't really know her that well.

"Chance, it was, that considered Chun-be for your benefit, we did," Yoda assured her. "When discussing your progress in the search, we were, contact us, he did, to tell us of his victory against the CIS."

"Knowing of his abilities, we requested that he join you in the search," Windu continued. "He ––– unlike you ––– was eager to begin, and now waits your arrival on Naboo."

"Look forward to reports of your success with Chun-be, we do," Yoda said, and the hologram faded.

Adriaan hit the desk with her fist so hard the comm system shattered. Ignoring the smoking rubble now strewn on the floor, she crushed the debris with her boots as she stormed out of her room and stomped out to the mess hall to get some refreshment.


	7. Darc Chunbe

**Hey everyone!!! R&R this new chapter! For fellow clone lovers, the members of Shadow Squad will play take up more of the spotlight as you get farther into the story, so just bear with them having lesser roles right now. Also, at the end of this book you'll know why my username is ELF Commando, but for now, you'll just have to hang in suspense!**

**Disclaimer: _Star Wars _is not mine. I am simply someone who aspires to become a professional writer. _Galactic War _is for practice, just to give me some sort of experience in writing books. So far, I think I'm doing pretty good; four finished books, and I'm still on a roll. I hope everyone is enjoying reading these books as much as I enjoy writing them.**

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Chapter 7

Adriaan was visibly nervous upon their landing on Naboo. Kan alone knew why; she had made it clear to him that her old friend was never to be mentioned in her presence, let alone see him again, face to face.

Kan smiled at his Master sympathetically as the ship descended to the planet surface, and

she grinned back distractedly. Her agitation was starting to rub off onto the other Padawans; Klamin was shapeshifting repeatedly from a human to a Twi'lek, Heatrian's head was continually blowing up in mini volcano explosions, Jordin was chewing on her fingernails, Marya was sulking, and Kay Lee was fiddling with her Padawan braid. Kan looked upon his fellow Apprentices with pity; they did not know the cause of Adriaan's jumpiness. All they knew was that if their Master was nervous, trouble was sure to be heading their way.

The ship they were flying was a nonmilitary Republic craft, since they were entering a neutral zone. Everyone in the group had changed out of their battle gear and into the traditional Master and student robes. Even the clones had changed out of their armor and into simple Kaminoan flight suits. Only the Jedi carried weapons, while the clones went unarmed in respect to the peaceful Naboo people. They didn't want to look like they were bringing war to the planet.

"Sir, we have just been granted permission to land," Skipp told Adriaan for the third time. Kan nudged her, and she started and looked around, as if not recognizing where she was.

"Did I sleep in? Please don't hurt me it was an accident!" she shouted.

"General ell Talaan," Skipp repeated gently. "We are landing."

Adriaan's eyes lost the wild look, and she relaxed the tiniest bit in her seat. "Well, let's get this over with."

All thirty-six of the group stepped off the ramp and onto the landing platform. Naboo's climate was pleasant; much different from the wind-torn settlements they had trekked through in Wild Space. It was late in the evening, and the platform was empty.

"No one to welcome us," Andora said, stating the obvious.

"Are you sure this is where we're supposed to meet Commander Chun-be?" Klamin asked.

"He is here," Adriaan said with confidence, her gaze moving across the landscape keenly. "I sense his presence."

Everyone shifted in the moonlight for a few more minutes.

"How about some drinks?" a clone called Tau asked presently, pointing off toward the small cafeteria at the edge of the platform. "Maybe we'll find him in there."

"Good boy," Adriaan murmured. "I knew I kept you around for some reason."

"We want WICKED food!" the Wicked Club demanded.

"Of course," Adriaan said. "I'll be sure to pick up some from a garbage bin before I order everyone else some bantha burgers."

The Wicked Club, of course, didn't believe her.

Kan's Master took a few steps toward the restaurant, hesitated, stopped, and turned back around to fix them with her wild, catlike gaze.

"Before we go in, I want you to realize that the person we are meeting tonight is an old friend of mine, and he will be absolutely necessary to us if we can even hope at succeeding in our quest of finding that coward Separatist General and bring him to justice."

"Pardon my asking, but how can a civilian help people like _us_?" Shakir asked.

"Like I said before, I know him, and even though he's a scoundrel, he knows how to get the job done. To you Padawans, it may be of some significance to you if I mention that he is _the_ ––– I stress the 'the' because he is, indeed, the _only _––– Apprentice of Twyla Arelan. Now, which one of you will kindly explain to Shadow Squad who Twyla Arelan is?"

"More unerringly, who _was _Twyla Arelan, as she is now consolidated with the Force," Andora said. "To you less-informed beings, it is only compulsory for you to comprehend that Twyla Arelan was a Council Member who devised a form of combat reserved especially for the Chosen One. Twyla knew that only a Master with at least her sagacity and expertise could possibly indoctrinate the Chosen One, should he appear. She then pledged that she would accept no pupil less than the one who was ordained to bring equilibrium to the Force."

The Wicked Club and Marya yawned impolitely. The clones merely tried to appear that they understood.

Adriaan rolled her eyes upward. "Everyone has heard of Anakin Skywalker."

It was not a question; she knew everyone knew who he was. His legion was legendary, and the Captain of his contingent was a role model for all her clones, especially those in the Invader Regiment. Even if Adriaan did not like Anakin personally because of the part he played in getting her best friend to quit the Order, they all worshipped and admired General Skywalker and his clone Captain Rex.

"Everyone knows that the rumors about his heroic deeds are true," Adriaan continued. "Well, you all know other Jedi have accomplished similar feats, but none as amazingly bold and fearless as Skywalker's. He is able to accomplish this because he is a very special person in the Jedi Order. According to a Jedi prophesy, Anakin will someday bring peace to the galaxy. He is the Apprentice Twyla Arelan was expecting. However, Darc Chun-be was mistaken for the Chosen One, and she took Chun-be as her Apprentice instead. That must give you some idea of Darc's power and potential."

"He quit," Kan pointed out.

Adriaan smiled grimly. "Yes. And Arelan is now dead. How odd fate can be sometimes… but that does not concern us right now. My point is that someone who can be mistaken for Anakin can surely be of some aid to us, even if he is just a civilian."

Everyone nodded with understanding; even Jahn Pal and Sai'wer, but Adriaan suspected that they were only nodding because they were sleepy.

"Keeping this in mind, and the fact that your General and Master is no longer on good terms with him, remember to greet our new ally unciv…" she checked herself, glancing at Andora's disapproving face. "…_courteously._"

The clones ––– excluding Shakir, who never smiled ––– grinned devilishly. Kan suspected that "courteous" was just another one-word command Adriaan had taught them.

"Of course; we would not have it any other way," Ember said, winking.

The Wicked Club giggled with evil anticipation.

"Come." Adriaan started once more towards the cantina.

At that moment, the cantina door hissed open and Darc Chun-be strode out.

Kan, at first, didn't know what to think. He felt as though he were staring at a vision of himself five years into the future. Darc was tall, with broad shoulders and a strong, wiry, blade-thin body. His hair was dark and curly and shone in the moonlight. His eyes were the color of the moon; Kan could tell even from where he was because Darc's skin was an incredible tanned color, setting off the luminous hue of his eyes. He wore a clean white shirt with the top three buttons undone; and blue pants and two black leather blaster holsters that held two sleek, silver sporting blasters.

"Ooh, he's so…_handsome_," Jordin said, her eyes glowing with adoration. She was too awestruck to say anything more.

"Bantha droppings!" Kan muttered, feeling a prick of jealousy. "I knew this was going to be a bad day."

"You said it," Marya hissed, not at all charmed by Darc's looks.

"Well, if it isn't little Ree," Darc said, speaking for the first time. Adriaan froze as Darc walked the last few steps toward her. "You've certainly grown taller since I've seen you. What have they been feeding you at the Temple? And what happened to that Padawan braid?" he asked, tugging at her shoulder length hair. "Have you cut it off just to impress me?"

"To impress someone such as yourself, I would never bother to go through all the trouble of altering my appearance, which is naturally impressive," Adriaan said cooly. "Now, let me exchange compliment for compliment. You say that I have grown taller. If this is true, let me say that you have also grown, but not vertically. _Sideways_."

Darc laughed with good-humor. "I used to be pretty scrawny, didn't I? Well, once I got into the real universe, I needed a stronger body to survive. But it's paid off. It's a lot harder than you think to live without the Force to guide you." He looked at his biceps fondly.

Kan was absolutely disgusted. A man, completely obsessed with his muscles and his looks, certainly could never have been a Chosen One candidate.

"But hey, you've got a lot of guts coming here, Ree, after what _you _did…" Darc said, suddenly more serious as he stepped closer to Adriaan. Kan saw Adriaan's hand go automatically to her utility belt for her lightsaber, then suddenly seem to change her mind and relax. Darc was no threat to her.

"What the heck are you talking about?" she asked. "Wasn't it _you _who walked out on me when I was _dying _in a medical center?"

Darc said nothing, only stepped closer to her so that their faces were glaring a few centimeters from each other. The Padawans and the clones shifted nervously, expecting a brawl to break out any time soon. A fight seemed inevitable when from behind Darc, several men suddenly appeared, carrying blasters.

"You know the CIS has been offering a substantial reward for taking you prisoner?" Darc asked her, a smile playing at the corner of his lips.

"I am well aware of it," Adriaan said quietly. "I must be quite dangerous if the Count considers _me _to be a threat."

"Unfortunately, the reward is too tempting for me to be frightened off," Darc said. Adriaan merely stared at him in silence, daring him to make his move.

Suddenly a grin brightened the features of Darc's face. "Just kidding, you old scoundrel! It's so great to see you!"

His arms moved to embrace her, but he was stopped as she lifted up her hand, grabbed his arm and twisted his wrist behind his back, controlling him with her index finger and thumb with a contemptuous ease.

"Ow! Ree!" Darc yelped as she pushed his wrist backwards.

The Varactyl Clan and Shadow Squad didn't know what was about to happen next. They watched their Master anxiously, hoping that she knew what she was doing.

"Ow! All right, the joke's on me now," Darc gulped. "Can you release me and give me a more friendly welcome?"

"I am not joking," Adriaan said clapping her old friend on the back and sending him sprawling. "Pitiful creature, you would hardly survive as a bantha herder. Your animals would no doubt trample you to death."

"Oh, you must still be pretty angry about what I did," Darc groaned, leaping to his feet gracefully. "Yow! I see that even the Jedi trials couldn't tame your wildness!"

"Wild? Moon and stars, I am anything _but _uncontrollable," Adriaan said. "And why should I be angry? After all, I am a Jedi, and I have no hard feelings about the past. It is, indeed, very good to see you again, my friend."

"Really?" Darc asked.

"No!" Adriaan snapped. "I am not here to renew any bonds of friendship, I am here to collect someone that will prove to be of some use to me. And I hope, for your sake, that you will not disappoint me."

"And if I am not useful to you?"

"Then you will die," Adriaan said simply.

"All right, now that we have settled the terms, suppose you introduce me to your companions," Darc said amiably, looking over her shoulder at Wolf, who stood protectively a few meters behind her.

"Wolf, my clone sidekick," Adriaan said, gesturing toward the clone.

Darc looked Wolf up and down. "Ah, your sidekick…does he tell jokes?"

"No, sir," Wolf said coldly. "I am the one who kills those who provoke her."

"Charming."

"Sidekick? I thought _we _were your sidekicks!" Kay Lee complained, striding forward.

Darc whistled. "_He-LLO-O-H, _what have we here?" he asked, bowing gallantly. "A princess?"

Kay Lee's eyes shot lasers at him.

"Commander Lee of Twilight Regiment," she said sternly. Adriaan had given her the command of a clone regiment, which Kay Lee was very proud of.

"Excuse me, my lovely lady," Darc murmured, his eyes widening as Klamin's giant shadow fell over him. "Ah, you must be Ree's Master. Ree, you really _did _cut off the Padawan braid to impress me, didn't you?"

"He is not my Master," Adriaan said.

"Your bodyguard?"

"No."

"Your boyfriend." He flinched as her fist was waved threateningly in front of his face. "Sorry. I forgot that _I _am your…"

"One more impertinent insult and I will cut out your tongue. This is my _Padawan, _Klamin J'Oli. He's younger than he looks…you're eight years old, aren't you, Klamin?"

"Sixteen," Klamin said huffily.

"I keep forgetting. Oh, speaking of obnoxious boys who act younger than what they really are, meet the Wicked Club."

"Hi, ugly man!" Aedan said. "I'm WICKEDLY hotter than you, and I've dumped more girlfriends than you, and –––"

"I remember those kids," Darc sighed. "They were only babies when I left, but they were terrors."

"In that case, I shall not have to weary my brain by trying to remember all their names and introduce them to you," Adriaan said. "Just remember never to speak to them or treat them as if they exist, and you'll be fine. Here are my other Apprentices ––– Marya, who is Commander of Shoto Regiment; Commander Kan Enik of Soresu Regiment; and then there's Jordin and Andora, who only act as commanding officers when there is need. These four are your COs, and if you do not treat them with due respect, I will loose the Wicked Club on you."

"I'm terrified."

"You should be."

Darc's eyes shifted away from Adriaan and suddenly focused on Kan. His moon-colored eyes seemed to cloud. "Have we met?"

Adriaan started and turned to see what Darc was staring at. "Perhaps," she said. "That is my first Apprentice, Kan Enik. He was about eleven or twelve when you left."

Darc stared at Kan for a moment longer, then shook his head. "I'm sorry," he said. "Seeing him just startled me for a second; I thought he was me."

"He does bear a rather unfortunate resemblance to you," she said easily. "No offense, Kan."

Kan didn't offer any comment; in fact, he barely acknowledged Darc's presence. Darc had hurt his Master, somehow, and that labeled him as Kan's enemy.

"The rest must be your clone escort," Darc said gesturing at Shadow Squad. "Don't bother introducing me to them; they all have numbers as names, so I'll never remember. Especially since they look alike –––"

"I'll have you know that _every_ clone in the Grand Army of the Republic possesses an alternate form of identity ––– usually a nickname, such as Punch, Gor, or Batter ––– because numbers just don't cut it for easy identification. More and more people are beginning to acknowledge individuality. _Everyone's _individuality."

"Aw, come _on, _Ree, they all have the same DNA code, for goodness sake –––"

"With all due respect, honored Chun-be, twins share the same DNA code as well," Andora pointed out.

Rez suddenly stepped forward. "Of course, you wouldn't understand, sir, what it's like to be a _clone…_"

"CT-1374! Evince some courtesy!" Andora exclaimed. "A subordinate talking back to his superior! Disgraceful!_"_

"I do what the General tells me to do," Rez said. "At least, most of the time."

Adriaan half-turned. "Then let us do what Andora kindly advised and show Commander Chun-be…_courtesy_," she said, putting emphasis on the word again.

"Is it me, or are you thinking that Adriaan's definition of courtesy isn't going to involve civility?" Klamin whispered to Kay.

* * * * *

"What's his name?"

"Storm?"

"What is his name?"

"Shakir?"

"What is his name?"

"Ammo? Punch?"

"Why do you keep answering my questions with more questions? Answer me, Chun-be!"

"Kan."

Adriaan twisted his wrist harder. "Wrong. Kan is my Apprentice. You were right the first time. It's Storm."

"But I said that!"

"No, you didn't. You _asked _that. There's a difference."

Adriaan was obviously enjoying being a jerk. She always said being a jerk was her speciality. The only people she was never nasty to were the clones, Kan, and Kay. Everyone else she had little patience for. Darc was going to have to learn the hard way not to mess around with Adriaan, especially when it came to making fun of the clones.

"Remember: Ember, Skipp, Rez, Nano, Shakir, Cor, Storm, Onor, Jys, Vyto, Vikk, Fyre, Drag, Brannd, Tau, Delta, Ammo, Lance, and Wolf. I am swiftly losing patience with you, Crad."

"Ree, you know my name is Darc, not Crad," Commander Chun-be protested.

Adriaan feigned surprise. "Really? It's Darc? I had no idea."

Everyone burst into fits of laughter at the look on Darc's face.

"Commander Chun-be, I hope you have learned your lesson not to take the clones lightly with Adriaan around," Kay Lee said, grinning.

"I am a slow learner," Darc said wryly, rubbing his wrist where Adriaan had grasped him. "Ow. Some of your Master's brutality must've rubbed onto you, Ree."

Adriaan shot him a look. "It's General ell Talaan, and I do not know what you mean about my Master's brutality," she said.

"Who was your Master, Master?" Jordin wondered. Then she giggled. "That sounds so funny; 'Master, Master' Did you hear that, Kan? I said, 'Master, Master'…"

"You've never told us about your old Master," Klamin said, looking at Adriaan curiously.

"She's dead," Adriaan said flatly. Something in her voice warned the Padawans to stay away, but something about what she said made Darc look at her strangely.

"_She?_" he asked, looking at Adriaan with an odd expression on his face.

Adriaan raised her eyebrows incredulously. "Don't you remember?" she asked, smiling. "My Master was Netari Ptosoy. She was quite a legendary figure when she was alive. Very aggressive in combat…but not brutal. She was very gentle when her lightsaber was clipped to her utility belt."

"Never heard of her," Kan said. Something wasn't right here. Something about how Adriaan and Darc were acting…

_They have something to hide._


	8. Picking Up the Scent

Chapter 8

Geonosis was no vacation spot. It was an alkali plain wasteland, fraught with danger from radiation storms and attacks from the ferocious massiffs that lay in wait for easy prey. The people who inhabited this planet were harsh and had no love for outlanders. But the planet itself had been nearly nonexistent to the rest of the galaxy, until that one fateful day, a year ago, that had changed everything…

_Fett swerved around…_

_Ruru was there. He was standing in front of Kan, filling that horrible, empty space between Kan and the blasters with his large, powerful body. It made Kan feel taller, bolder, more than he was. His Master seemed to chase away his fears that had left him frozen on the spot, so that he was able to breathe freely again. He let go of the Force, releasing the bubble of time so that it ran again as it had before. His Master slightly turned and tilted his head toward his Apprentice, smiling encouragingly. Kan smiled back, knowing that his Master would not let Kan succumb to the terrible fate that awaited him._

_Ruru turned to the bounty hunter. "Leave the boy alone."_

_ His soft voice that nevertheless spoke with strength and command filled the silence. The bounty hunter did not respond to him, but the blank stare of the mask seemed to look at them with a hint of malice._

_ "_Jango Fett!_ Don't shoot!" _

_ He caught a fleeting vision of Adriaan running at top speed, arms upraised and stretched toward the mercenary as if pleading with him. She sidestepped a rolling destroyer droid, cutting it to pieces. A super battle droid fired a barrage of blasts at her, nicking her in the shoulder and causing blood to run forth. But she didn't flinch. She kept running._

_ Kan's gaze swerved toward his Master_. Adriaan, I don't need you_,_ _he called silently to her, _My Master is here. He will take care of me. The bounty hunter ––– Jango Fett? ––– does not stand a chance against Ruru…

_ Jango Fett, the bounty hunter, swiveled his Westar at Ruru…_

_ "Master Windu!" Dooku's voice rang over them as if he were shouting down from a mountaintop. "You have fought gallantly. Worthy of recognition in the Archives of the Jedi Order. Now, it is finished. Surrender, and your lives will be spared…"_

No. We will never bow to your dark ways, Jedi outcast. We are Jedi. We defend freedom and peace. We will not bow down to you.

_"We will not surrender as hostages to be bartered, Dooku," Mace Windu said distinctly. They would never back down. They were warriors… _

_"The Senate has voted emergency powers to the Chancellor, and as his first act with this new authority, he shall enlist the help of the clone army found by Jedi Master Kenobi on the remote world, Kamino…"_

_"My young Padawan, you have me here now to instruct and guide you, but what about a month from now? I may not be with you anymore. Don't look so downhearted, Kan! I'm not planning to die any time soon, but there is a risk. So take the time we have together, and learn, understand something from it._

_"You must do this. For me. For yourself. For all of us. Stay here and do not hinder us. That is my last command to you. Do you understand?"_

Yes, I do understand. What I do not understand is this…

_The bounty hunter swiveled his Westar at Ruru and fired. _

MASTER!

_The blasts meant for Kan ripped through Ruru's heart, but as he watched his Master crumple up and die, he felt his own heart shuddering from the blasts of the Westar, too. The bounty hunter had not killed just one man; he had killed Kan, too. Kan had never been shot…but he had died that day. _

_ The galaxy had been torn apart on that day. The day the war began. But the galaxy had not died…it had kept on spinning around in the universe. Only Ruru had died, and Ruru was Kan's universe._

_ Jango whirled around and fired…_

"Does it bother you to come here?" Jordin asked Kan, her voice whispering against his skin.

Kan opened his eyes and relaxed his clenched fists. "No, I…yes, it does, but Adriaan told me that if I can't face pain, I can't face life. I'm beginning to forget, anyway."

Jordin looked at him, her greenish-blue eyes serious. "Perhaps forgetting is the worst thing for you to do," she said quietly.

"Why the GOOD are we back on this GOOD old world?" Aedan complained loudly.

"You mean you've been to this WICKED…GOOD place before?" Heatrian asked.

Adriaan, who was a little ways ahead, stopped and turned to address the Padawans. "You all know this is the site where the first clone wars battle was fought."

"Yes," Marya said. "But how could Aedan have been here? Only Jedi Knights fought on this world."

"Kan, Jordin and the Wicked Club snuck aboard one of the cruisers. I nearly got killed trying to save them all."

"Wow, the Jedi flying the cruiser must've been pretty lazy if they hadn't bothered to check for stowaways," Klamin observed.

"Oh, yes, I agree!" Jordin said breathlessly. "To this day, I still cannot understand how Adriaan could have been so foolish and stupid as to not search her ship before takeoff –––"

Darc coughed, trying to hide his grin as Adriaan glared at them all and whirled on her heel, searching the blood-red landscape.

"You still haven't answered my WICKED question," Aedan reminded them.

Darc, who had been crouching in the dirt, surveying what looked to be massiff tracks, looked up at this. "Didn't you listen to me while we were waiting for the gunship to land?"

"Pff, _no, _GOOD, why should I ever listen to _you_?" Aedan scoffed. "You're not _WICKED._"

"Yeah, he has a hard enough time as it is listening to _us, _his own WICKED friends," Andre pointed out.

Darc sighed. "I chose this planet because this is where the clone wars began," he explained. "Who can tell me why the Separatists and the Republic fought at this particular location?"

"I WICKEDLY can't," Nic said.

"Yeah, we're not GOOD old historians!" Andre said indignantly.

"Do you realize that this event can't quite be called ancient yet since it happened in your lifetime?" Darc asked. "Not only that, it was a year ago and you witnessed the event. Why can't you tell me?"

"Because you already know the GOOD old answer," Aedan said. "My GOOD old brother Obi-wan got GOODLY captured and I wanted him to croak but Master GOOD said no and sent three billion Jedi here to eradicate the GOODS and there was blood and WICKED violence everywhere and –––"

Darc slapped a hand to his forehead. "You don't get it," he said. "Master Kenobi was here because he was searching for a bounty hunter that had been hired to assassinate a well-known Senator. It was here, on Geonosis, that he accidently stumbled on the Separatist hideout, and confirmed the fact that Count Dooku was, indeed, the one who had hired Jango Fett to kill the leading member of the anti-Separatist faction. How did he confirm this? He secretly listened in to a CIS conference. All the Separatist leaders had gathered here to discuss plans of war with the Count."

"And there were only two hundred Jedi summoned for this commission, not three billion," Andora pointed out. "I wasn't even present, yet even I realize that."

"That still doesn't explain why we are here," Kan remarked. "We're supposed to find General Grievous, and he wasn't around at the time of the battle of Geonosis."

"Ah, but that's what they _want _you to think," Darc said. "Grievous' purpose is to eliminate all the Jedi generals. Why? Because the Jedi are the only ones who can truly oppose the sith. Count Dooku was once a Jedi, so of course he would know how much of a threat your order would be to him. So it doesn't make sense for him to suddenly decide to find a Jedi killer _now, _one year into the clone wars. He is extremely cunning and intelligent; he surely would have put Grievous into operation as soon as he could."

"Then where has Grievous been this past year?" Jordin wondered.

"Working for the Count, of course," Adriaan said, her back still turned to them. "Dooku's plan was probably to keep Grievous a secret weapon as long as he could. There have been mysterious 'disappearances' of Jedi Knights all over the galaxy ever since the beginning of the war. Who has been killing them? There are few in the galaxy capable and motivated enough to do such a thing. Among the candidates, the bounty hunter Aurra Sing. But she's the type who doesn't want to keep her successes over the Jedi a secret. It's my guess that Grievous was hired by Dooku near the beginning of the war. He's been picking off the Jedi one at a time, leaving no witnesses to report his existence. It wasn't until he faced that whole Jedi detachment at Hypori that he was finally revealed."

"Blah blah, blah blah blah," Aedan mocked. "So why the GOOD did you pick this place for a history lecture? Couldn't you have at least chosen the WICKED dormitory?"

"We didn't just randomly pick Geonosis," Darc said, moving along the ground. "This is the former main Separatist quarters. Every single CIS leader has been here. And since Grievous is the General of the CIS army, and since he was already a Separatist around the time the battle of Geonosis took place…"

"…You've inferred that he's been here before," Kay finished.

"Commander Chun-be, before his decision to leave the Jedi Order, was legendary for his skills as a tracker," Adriaan said. "He can find anything, and anyone."

"My number one rule when trying to find something is _start at the beginning,_" Darc said. "Many people have failed to find what they are looking for just by blowing off this simple technique. If you start where the person began, you have the whole story."

"I don't get it," Klamin said.

"You will," Darc assured him.

"This is still enemy territory, right?" Kay Lee asked.

"Sort of," Adriaan said. "Obviously, the Seppies aren't going to use this world as a major base for some time. This planet is officially occupied by the Republic, but there are still some droids left here, mostly to protect the Geos. They shouldn't be too much of a problem."

"Where exactly are we going?" Andora asked.

"We're starting with the battlefield, since it's the closest," Adriaan said. "From there, we'll decide what to do."

* * * * *

Kan didn't like revisiting the battlefield. The Republic had seen to cleaning up most of the battle wreckage, but there were still a few rusted remains of Republic gunships, Separatist troops, and tanks. And even though the battle had been fought over a year ago, there was still the smell of blood and smoke hanging in the air. Or was that just his imagination?

Ember looked around. "Still pretty messy," he commented.

"What do you expect to find in this trash heap, sir?" Rez asked Darc.

"Nothing, or anything," he replied cryptically.

"Grievous has probably never even been here," Kay Lee said. "There were no reports of him during the battle. We're not going to find _anything _here."

"You assume too much, my sweet," Darc said. "Hasn't your all-powerful Master taught you the virtues of having an open mind?"

The seventeen-year-old Padawan bristled. "Don't you _dare _call me _your _sweet," she said, making a fist.

"Yeah, I would never describe her as sweet, that's for sure," Klamin guffawed. He paled and morphed into a Kaminoan when Kay whirled on him and would have socked him on the jaw, if Andora hadn't intervened.

"Discontinue, Apprentice Kay," she said sternly, coming between them. "It is not Jedi-like _or_ ladylike to terrorize any individual of any social position whatsoever."

"Well, they asked for it," Kay grumbled.

"Fight! Fight! Fight!" the Wicked Club cheered. "Go WICKED!"

"Striplings, do not inveigle her!" Andora insisted.

"Why not? I missed the last brawl you Apprentices had. I want to see how you fight when it gets dirty," Adriaan said easily, her mouth curving in a sarcastic grin.

"Oh, Ree, you're an absolutely terrible influence on your Padawans," Darc groaned.

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"Does that mean I can hit Klamin all I want?" Kay Lee asked.

"By all means. But I hope you will not mind if I send you both back to the Temple to do it. We're here on a very dangerous mission, so you need to decide on what is more important to you ––– helping to turn the tide of the war or kicking a weakling's butt."

The Wicked Club snickered.

Kay Lee and Klamin took the hint. They moved to opposite ends of the field and didn't look at each other for the rest of the day.

"Nano, power up the sensors, and be on alert for any foreign articles in this area," Adriaan told them. "Oh, and make sure none of the clankers catch sight of us, or this could be a real short picnic."

The Varactyl Clan and Shadow Squad split up and moved across the battlefield, searching through the piles of junk for anything worth notice. Kan watched as Wolf and Klamin began to follow Adriaan, and decided to keep an eye on them as well.

"Oh, Master!" Jordin called from several meters off. "I found the hairpin that I lost while I was here isn't that funny I thought I would never see it again. Marya, what are you holding in your hand?"

"A gauntlet with a comlink attached," Marya answered. "Complete garbage."

"I found food!" Aedan screamed, stuffing his face full of red dirt. He swallowed the mouthful and smiled at the group. "Man, that is some pretty WICKED stuff." Suddenly his grin disappeared and he groveled in the dust, coughing and spluttering all over the place. Adriaan met Kan's eyes and shook her head, grinning wryly.

"That's some kid," she said. "Eh, Darc?"

"Sure."

"Despite his insanity, he's actually quite useful," she continued.

"How the heck can that worthless thing be called useful? That kid's like a banshee in the flesh."

"Believe it or not, he's the most talented kid I've got. Stop laughing! I'm being serious! I'm telling you, he'll go far."

"Yeah, about as far as the trash heap," Klamin laughed. Adriaan simply cast her eyes up to heaven in a silent prayer for help.

After about fifteen minutes of roaming around the battlefield, they all grouped back together.

"Find anything?" Adriaan asked them all.

No one had found any trace of the cyborg general, as Kay had predicted. "I think a better place to look would be where General Kenobi listened in to the CIS conference," Darc said.

"Right," Adriaan said. "But it could get nasty with thirty-seven of us trying to sneak into the Geonosian spire."

"That's why I think only I should go…with a Jedi escort, of course," Darc said, gazing meaningfully at Kan's Master.

"Apprentice Lee will escort you," Adriaan said cheerfully, handing a surprised Darc her datapad. "Here are the coordinates. Kay Lee, make sure he's back here in one piece before sunset."

"Do I have to?" Kay complained.

"Yes. Do you have a problem with that?"

"Actually, I do."

Kan could tell that Adriaan was doing her best to be a calm, wise Master. "Would you mind explaining why you have a problem with it?"

"Aside from it being a fate worse than death to tag along with this self-conceited jerk of an ex-Jedi, I'm not as good at sneaking around as you are," Kay Lee said.

Adriaan was quiet for several moments. "And what do you suppose would make you better at sneaking?"

"Practice," Kay muttered sullenly.

"Exactly. Get going."

The Apprentice glared at the former Padawan's back as they trudged out onto the mesa. Kan watched as his Master's hand flew to her mouth to hide the smile that rose to her face. He grinned and watched the dejected form of Kay Lee as she traipsed across the bleak landscape.

Then he was suddenly distracted by the glint of metal gleaming on the horizon, over to the left. Squinting at it, he called for one the clones to bring him the electrobinoculars.

"Here you are, sir," Brannd said, handing him a pair. Kan held it up to his eyes and zoomed in on the object.

"Cut the chatter, guys! We've got company!" he yelled as he glimpsed three ATTs heading their way.

Adriaan immediately hurried toward him. "How far? From what angle?" she grabbed the binoculars and took a look. "Boys, we're taking Massiff Position 5, just like the drills. Repeat, Massiff, Position 5."

"Sir yes sir!" the clones immediately dispersed to find cover.

"What about us, Master?" Kan asked, but Adriaan was busy trying to contact the gunship that had dropped them off. "_Wingnut 2,_ we need an EVAC standing by. Do you copy? Please land so that we can pick up the heavy artillery. Do you _copy?!_ Shakir, come in!"

She switched off the comlink, frustrated. "Looks like the Seppies have already jammed our communications. Blast them!"

"Never mind, we can deal with a couple of ATTs no problem," Marya said.

"What are our orders?" Kan repeated.

"Position 5, Massiff, kid; didn't you hear me?"

"We did, but you we don't GOODLY understand your GOOD dialect," Aedan said.

"We have no WICKED idea what Position 5 Massiff means," Andre explained.

"Blast it, I forgot that you guys don't know the Positions," she said, slapping a hand to her forehead. "Seriously, you guys should spend less time brawling and more time learning useful things like the Positions…"

"We _would, _if you would actually teach us, for once," Klamin said.

"Don't patronize me, _Apprentice; _I've been training you for four hours every day for two weeks straight now…"

"General," Rez interrupted. "With all due respect, you shouldn't be wasting time arguing with your Apprentices. The clankers will be here in minutes."

Adriaan looked like she was about to yell at the clone, but then thought better of it. "You're right…I'm sorry," she said. "Padawans, place yourselves in different places in this area. Unfortunately for the Seppies, they've lost the element of surprise, so they don't know that we know they're coming. So hide, and wait for my signal."

"What's the signal?" Kan asked.

"A gigantic fireball."

"Really?"

"Yes, really."

"Where are you going to get a gargantuan fireball?"

"The usual way."

"Fine. We'll be waiting." Kan melted back into the shadows with the rest of the Apprentices.

His Master put the electrobinoculars back up to her eyes, surveying the CIS's progress.

"Looks like they're just going to come at us head-on," she reported. "Not the decision I would make if I was their Commander. Wolf, why aren't you in position?"

"Sorry, sir. Just fixing my blaster pistol. It's malfunctioning."

"Let me see it." Adriaan held the tiny weapon in her hand. "See? The APAS connectors are loose." She took out a small servotool and began to work on it. "Just let me –––"

She was cut off by a roar as the pack of massiffs came out of hiding and surged toward her and the young clone.

Kan leaped out from behind the spider droid he had been crouching under. "Master! Look out!"

* * * * *

His Master barely glanced at the beast that was leaping for her throat. She didn't even look afraid. She simply raised the blaster she held in her hand and fired with the cold precision of a professional sharp shooter. The massiff fell a microsecond later, black blood gushing from his throat like a poisonous fountain. She turned and fired from a crouching position at a massiff that had tried to attack from behind. By that time, Wolf had gotten his other hand blaster out and was firing laser bolts at the pack as they came head-on.

The people closest to Adriaan were Kan and Klamin. The two of them got behind the pack and soon took down over half of the assailants. The massiffs, finding themselves outnumbered, scattered and fled out onto the mesa, howling.

"It's fixed," Adriaan said casually, tossing the blaster back to Wolf. "Go back to your position." She turned to face Klamin and Kan, eyebrows raised. "I don't recall asking you two for help."

"Master," Kan broke in. "You were in terrible danger. That massiff was about to rip your jugular vein open –––"

"But did he succeed? I think not," Adriaan's face softened a little bit. "I appreciate your concern, but, as you can see, I can take care of myself. Don't come out of hiding again until I give the signal, all right?"

Klamin rolled his eyes. "Yes, Master."

Contrary to Adriaan's command to remain in hiding, the Varactyl Clan and the rest of Shadow Squad came running up.

"Nice shot, sir," Ember said.

"Yeah, who taught you to shoot like that?" Wolf asked, sticking his weapons back in their holsters.

Adriaan looked slightly embarrassed. "Well, um, to tell you the truth, I've never laid hands on a gun before," she confessed.

"You could have fooled me," Storm said. "You acted as if you had done it your whole life."

"Well, thanks, I…" Adriaan crouched down to conceal her flushed cheeks, pretending to scrutinize the dead body of the massiff. Kan watched as her right hand gently touched the beast's blood-drenched fur. The black tattoo on her arm seemed to stand out even more against the redness of the blood as it dripped through her fingers.

_I wonder how she got that tattoo…_

"GOODS! Stop looking at that GOOD and pay WICKED attention to WICKED me!"

Aedan had grabbed a clone trooper helmet and had set it on his head, capering around the group wildly. Everyone who was not a Wicked Club member groaned aloud. Aedan never seemed to give up.

Suddenly Adriaan's annoyed expression was replaced by a puzzled frown. "Aedan…"

"Ahem!" the Wicked Club shouted at her.

"WICKED et cetera idiot Kenobi brat!"

"What?" Aedan asked, dancing as wildly as ever.

"Where did you get that helmet?"

The question was so ridiculous that it took everyone a moment or two to recover.

"Master, really!" Jordin said. "Those ATTs will be here any minute, and you're asking this wild child where he got a _clone trooper _helmet! From a clone, of course! Seriously, I will never understand the things you say sometimes –––"

"I know, but from what contingent?" Kan's mysterious Master asked.

"Excuse me?" Even Aedan had stopped dancing to stare at her in shocked amazement.

"GOOD old blond," Andre guffawed.

"Hey! GOOD!" Aedan, Nic, Terry and Kien yelled, pointing to thier own dirty yellow hair indignantly.

"No offense."

"The five-oh-third legion, I guess," Klamin shrugged.

Adriaan shook her head. "No. Look at it. It's all battered up. The fin at the top is chipped off, and there's a crack in the T-mask. There's smoke-stains all over it, too. None of my boys would keep their armor in that condition. Aedan, did you pick this up from the battlefield?"

Aedan looked surprised. "Of course! Right over where that GOOD old ship that was going to take us home WICKEDLY blew up."

Only Kan and Jordin understood what Aedan meant. When Adriaan had found them in the middle of the battle on Geonosis, she had ordered a clone escort to take the Apprentices back to Coruscant, where they belonged. The Padawans were about to enter the Republic cruiser when it had blown up. All the clones aboard the ship had died.

While Jordin began to animatedly explain to the others what Aedan meant, Kan followed the boy to the spot where he had found the helmet. He couldn't tell for sure whether it was the place or not. There were scorch marks still in the red earth, but that could have been from any ship. He glanced at the identification number on the clone helmet.

CT-2\110. That was the identification number of the clone who had been ordered to escort them off-planet. This was the place.

_ CT-2\110 strode up the ramp. "Stay here while we conduct the preflight check for you, sirs. It won't be long."_

_ The clone disappeared into the hold._

_ Aedan signaled to the rest. "Quick, here's our chance to WICKEDLY run for it!" he said, edging away._

_ "You're going to what?" Jordin asked._

_ Kan felt himself suddenly propelled forward by a blast that rent the air in an ear-shattering roar that sent everyone sprawling in the dirt. Kan turned and watched as the CIS tank destroyed what was left of the Republic cruiser. Their ride home was now only a smoking heap of rubble, not even fit for Jawa scavengers…_

_ A clone helmet rolled away from the fire and came to a stop at Kan's feet. He looked down at the helmet, taking in the bashed-in T-mask, the fin that had been chipped off, the smoke that marred the clean white surface. The identification tag on the helmet had almost been destroyed by the inferno, but he could still barely read what it said._

_ CT-2/110._

"It is long since you have thought of this place."

Adriaan's face was grave as she took the helmet from Kan's hands and laid it reverently in the center of the burned ground.

"My memories of it are not happy ones," Kan said."So many people died on this world…some could have been prevented, I think, if it hadn't been for…"

He didn't finish his sentence. _If it hadn't been for me, Ruru would have lived, and so would have this clone._

Adriaan stepped away from the helmet and looked at her first Padawan with a gentle expression on her face. "My memories of this place are not happy, either," she said. "Many sacrificed their lives here. Some deaths could have been prevented, maybe…but we do not dwell on what could have been. For we always have so much to do. We are responsible for the protection of the billions of lives in this galaxy. You are a Jedi, and you share that burden and gift with us. But one burden you should not take upon yourself is the weight of the dead."

She placed her hand lightly on his shoulder for a moment, and then she was General ell Talaan again.

"All right, men! Back in positions! Let's give those Seppies a surprise!"

Kan looked back down at the lonely clone helmet resting on the red Geonosian plain. Adriaan's bloodstained hand had left a print just above the T-mask, and it showed up starkly against the smoky-white colors of the helmet. Kan turned away and buried the memory of the helmet deep within his mind.

* * * * *

"Sir! We have arrived at the designated location!" 223 said.

"Good; do you see the Jedi?" the droid leader asked.

"Roger roger."

"How many?"

"One, sir."

"ONE? They sent out three tanks for ONE Jedi?"

"Have you ever fought a Jedi before, sir?"

"No, but I don't find it necessary to drag three tanks and a whole battalion of us out onto this mesa for the sake of taking down ONE Jedi…"

"General's orders, sir."

The droid leader pressed the electrobinoculars to his eye sensors. "All right, but where is he?"

"Sir, the Jedi's a girl, and she's just sitting out in the middle of the plain…"

"Then blast her, you idiot!" the droid squawked.

"Roger roger." The tanks rolled up to the Jedi, who was indeed sitting in a cross-legged position in the dirt, eyes closed. If the girl hadn't been holding a lightsaber across her lap, the droid would have easily assumed that she could be anything but a Jedi. But, orders were orders…they were supposed to annihilate anyone not belonging to the Confederacy of Independent Systems, Jedi or no Jedi.

Droids 223 and 564 were definitely not the brightest lights on the ship. They still hadn't fired.

"Fire!" the droid leader rapped out. "Fire now, before –––"

His voice was drowned out by the deafening roar of the cannons as they blasted at the lone Jedi. The girl, unfortunately, possessed the same creepy reflexes of all the other Jedi the CIS had encountered, and she had leaped high into the air just microseconds after the tanks had fired. She leaped so high that the droid's eye sensors were not capable of following her ascent, and he didn't realize she had landed just behind him, until it was too late.

"NO!" his head flew off and plummeted through the air to land with a thunk just centimeters from where the others lay in hiding.

"Shoot her!" the droid in the next tank yelled as she turned to fix them with her steely gaze.

"Catch me if you can, laserbrains," Adriaan laughed, leaping nimbly out of their sightline and rolling so that she was behind the tank. Reaching out with the Force, she picked up the tank and sent it careening into the one she had just landed on. A shudder went through her entire body as the tanks bloomed in a perilous, fiery red flower. The next instant, molten metal rained down on her.

"For the Republic!" Ember yelled, standing up with the rest of Shadow Squad and charging at the remnant of droids. At the same moment, the Varactyl Clan emerged and ran after the clones, screaming heroically. If there had been enough room in the droids' capacitors for fear, they would have certainly fled at the sight of such terrible ferocity. But they didn't; they were programmed to kill, and if they got destroyed in the process…well, it didn't matter. So they regrouped around the last tank and kept up a steady barrage of fire. In normal circumstances, blasterfire like that would have instantly killed many soldiers, but with one Jedi to every couple of clones, there was almost no way the droids could penetrate and score a direct hit on anyone.

When the rest had been destroyed, Rez glanced at his chrono. "One minute, thirteen seconds, sir!" he announced.

"Great!" Adriaan said. "That was almost fifteen seconds faster than last time, boys. Any casualties?"

"Just me, ma'am," Onor said. "Stupid super clanker nicked me in the arm."

"Are you all right?"

"Just a scratch, sir. Vyto will patch me up in no time." Vyto was the clone who had medical training.

"Which Padawan was supposed to protect you?"

"Aedan, sir."

"That kid Aedan is no WICKED," Aedan said severly. "One would WICKEDLY think that after so many WICKED years of training…"

"Um, Aedan, what are you talking about? _You _are Aedan," Adriaan pointed out.

Aedan bristled at this. "How dare you mistake me for such a GOOD person!" he screamed.

"But your name _is _Aedan!" Adriaan cried, exasperated.

"Incorrect. My mother gave me that GOOD name, so my name is Aedan, but it is not Aedan. Do not call me Aedan, because even thought that is my real name, it is not my name."

"Then, blast it, what can I call you?"

The Wicked Club grinned and looked at each other. "WICKED WICKED Truly WICKED WICKED Non-Aedan Kenobi WICKED WICKED Aquahawks WICKED WICKED WICKEDNESS WICKEDLY WICKEDEST WICKED!"

"Never mind," Adriaan said. "Were you the one assigned to protect Onor?"

"Yes," Aedan said, puffing up his chest with pride.

"What caused you to lower your defenses so that he got hit?"

"A bone."

"A _bone?_"

"A WICKED massiff bone," Andre explained. "It was lying out in the dirt."

"So how did such a small, insignificant, stationary object cause Aedan to allow his companion to get hurt?"

"I WICKEDLY dropped my WICKED lightsaber so I could pick it up, okay?!" Aedan snapped. "I wanted to gnaw on it to see if it was WICKED."

Kan's Master opened her mouth, then closed it silently, staring at the Wicked King with a mixture of disgust and shock. Finally, she turned away and held her hand up to shield her eyes against the harsh glare of the Geonosian sun.

"Are the comm systems running again?" she asked Nano.

"Yes, sir!"

"Then contact the gunship. We need to get off this wasteland and get moving as fast as we can before the Seppies figure out what we're up to."

"What about Kay and Darc?" Kan wondered. "We promised to meet them here."

"We'll pick them up on the way. _Republic's Hope, _this is General ell Talaan," she said, speaking into her wrist comlink. "We're almost done checking this place out. Prepare the fleet for my arrival."


	9. Stranded on the Shadow World

Chapter 9

"Almost all the data had been wiped from the memory banks, but we were able to pick up something. May not be anything…"

"Well, what did you find?" Adriaan asked impatiently. Shadow Squad and the Varactyl Clan had assembled on the bridge of the _Republic's Hope. _Luckily, the CIS hadn't moved fast enough to launch a second attack on the group, so they had left Separatist Space and arrived safely back aboard the Republic frigate.

"A fragment of a message sent from a Bebullab starfighter orbiting around Hypori," Darc reported. He withdrew a small datachip from his pocket and plugged it into the main computer. A holofile of a small, shadowy planet popped up, along with a datafile written in Aurebesh. The bluish title of the file flickered as the General scanned the report.

"Umbria," Adriaan read.

"That's not what_ I _WICKEDLY read," Aedan contradicted. "It clearly says, 'Bow down to the WICKED King' not 'Umbria'"

"Where is the system?" Kan asked.

"There are no identified systems bearing that name, sir," Shakir reported after a quick search in the navi computer's databanks.

"It must be a code name for the location of a secret Separatist base," Adriaan guessed.

"But check this out." Kay grabbed a laserpointer and circled four words right underneath Umbria.

"Cloak of the Sith." Adriaan glanced sidelong at Kay Lee, who was grinning triumphantly. "Why are you smiling? I see no cause for joy. Traveling through a nebula is potentially dangerous…for an amateur pilot like you, that is."

"I told you not to eliminate the Cloak of the Sith as a possibility," Kay crowed.

"Yes, you did, and I apologize for not having listened to you earlier. But a true Jedi doesn't need to rub it in when she's right."

"Come on, I've got to have _some _fun for being right where you went wrong."

Adriaan decided it would probably be best to simply change the subject. "I guess I have to thank Darc for picking up that info. It will be a disagreeable task, but it must be done. So thanks, Chun-be. But you'd_ better_ be as productive when I need you next time."

"There's going to be a next time? I had no idea you held me in such high esteem that you would hire me a second time," Darc remarked.

"The question is, how are we going to find it once we get inside the nebula?" Adriaan continued. "On top of the danger of space shears, we could easily lose direction because it's hard to see anything once you're actually inside. There's so much turbulence that it throws off all the sensors."

"We'll find a way, sir," Wolf said confidently. "With you leading us, I know we will."

* * * * *

In the end, they decided it would be safer to take one cruiser ––– a _Pelta_-class frigate, with it's GAR licensing removed ––– into the storm, while the rest of the fleet surrounded the nebula. The plan was for the Jedi to find Grievous, flush him out, and force him to leave the Cloak of the Sith. Once out of the nebula, the droid General would fall straight into the trap set by _LightningStrike. _ It was a pretty good strategy, provided that Grievous was on Umbria and would follow according to plan.

Adriaan gripped the pilot controls tighter, not daring to wipe her sweaty hands on her tunic and so betray her nervousness to her Padawans, who were counting on her to remain calm so that their own fears would be soothed. She had always known it would be hard being a Master of fifteen Apprentices, but she had never realized just how hard and self-sacrificing it could be sometimes. Some nights she never got to sleep ––– let alone _meditate –––_ because she was always interrupted by Padawans making late-night visits to ask her questions…questions that included interpretations of visions, combat forms, battle strategies, how could they be more like her by never getting tired or scared. That last question always made Adriaan smile, because they just had no idea how tired or scared she was sometimes.

Most of the questions were on the verge of absurdity. Some went beyond the limit, especially in the case of the Wicked Club, Jordin, and sometimes Klamin. A typical reason why Adriaan would be aroused in the middle of the night was when a Padawan needed her help in making the Wicked Club behave. One night had been exceptionally bad; Aedan had booby-trapped all the other Apprentices' beds, and they had barged into her quarters screaming bloody murder and scratching at the itchy welts that were on their arms and legs. It appeared that Aedan had switched the mattress stuffing with Foil'aa leaves, which, when touched, caused skin to break out in an itchy rash. It had taken seven hours to get them all relatively calm, and it had taken two days for any of the victims to tolerate looking at a Wicked Club member without planning to strangle him.

"How can Master ell Talaan be so calm?" Jordin's bright voice prattled. "Doesn't she know that the chances of successfully navigating an asteroid field are one thousand, two hundred and fifty-seven to one? If I didn't know any better, I'd say that she has no idea that she's only flying us to our doom –––"

"Who's hungry?" Adriaan asked loudly, trying to lighten the tension. No one besides the Wicked Club answered with a yes. So much for trying to set a good example for the Padawans. Despite the fact that she was doing her best to maintain an aura of calm, they were all beginning to freak out.

"Guys, a nebula really isn't all that bad," she said, trying to reassure them. "Once we get inside it, it's actually quite pretty."

"If a nebula isn't 'all that bad' why did you assume that Grievous is too cowardly to hide in one?" Kay asked.

"Because Grievous doesn't have an awesome person like me to do the piloting," Adriaan answered. "Relax, Kay, I have everything under control…"

At that moment, the cruiser entered the cloud. Once inside, it looked like a brightly lit tunnel of stars with a dark, empty center just screaming with energy. This energy began to rock the craft, causing it to spin out of control.

Klamin had stupidly decided not to buckle in, so the sudden turbulence sent him flying into Adriaan, knocking the controls from her grip. As she hastily tried to recover the joystick that maneuvered the craft, her forehead slammed against the console, just barely missing the button that initiated the jump to hyperspace. She was flung back against her seat, something wet and sticky dripping down into her eyes. It ran into her mouth, leaving behind a taste of blood.

"Under control, huh?" Kay Lee asked, her remark forced out in a grunt as Klamin was knocked into her. "Get off me, you great lump of petrified monkey-lizard –––"

In answer, Klamin shapeshifted into a monkey-lizard and grinned maliciously at her. Kay shrieked and threw the creature into an empty seat, where he morphed back into his Shi'Odo form and hastily strapped on his safety belt.

Adriaan by now had gotten the ship slightly under control. The energy waves whipped past them, sending the craft into an erratical spin. Keeping her gaze on the navigation screen, she began to rap out orders to her copilot.

"Andora, boost the stabilizers!"

"Stabilizers boosted, Master."

Adriaan rolled her eyes, half-annoyed and half-impressed with the young Padawan's composure. "Adjust lateral controls and access the navi computer to acquire the coordinates Darc gave us."

Andora patiently did what was asked of her and repeated the coordinates to Adriaan, who plugged them into the navi computer as she rode on a wave of energy ripping through the nebula.

"All systems are holding up pretty well," Adriaan commented. "Good thing you tweaked them before we took off, Nano."

"Just doing my job, sir," Nano said, smiling through clenched teeth.

"Master, we are approaching the terminus," Andora called out.

"I don't see it," Adriaan muttered, glancing suspiciously at the former Padawan. "That information better be correct."

"It is," Darc said in that infuriatingly overconfident voice that always got on her nerves. He shouldn't be so cocky, especially with her.

"I'll think twice about killing you if you're right," Adriaan said finally, easing the ship into an upright position.

"Are we WICKEDLY there yet?" Aedan asked, looking bored as he fiddled with his restrainer.

"Does it look like it?" Adriaan asked shortly, going into a steep dive that all but plastered their heads to the ceiling.

"Yes." His busy fingers were working to get the safety belt loose.

"Aedan, please stop messing with your safety harness," Adriaan said, keeping her eyes on the screen. Umbria should have appeared by now. It was all the fault of that stupid son of a bantha, Chun-be –––

"Why not?" Aedan asked.

Now the rest of the boys were copying their king, chanting, "Are we WICKEDLY there yet? Are we WICKEDLY there yet? Are we WICKEDLY there yet?"

"Boys, please stop," Adriaan said, letting a warning note wander into her voice.

"Why are you being so polite to _them_?" Marya asked irritably. "They're not going to listen if you say, 'please' –––"

"Idiots! Sit down now!" Kay Lee shouted, turning around to glare at the Apprentices.

"Says who?" Nic asked defiantly.

"Who does it look like says who?"

"What gives _you_ the WICKED authority to command WICKEDS?" Heatrian asked.

Kay Lee simply stared at them menacingly.

Sadly, menacing looks never intimidated a Wicked Club member.

"GOOD!" they screamed, sticking their tongues out at her.

"Master, we have pulled ahead of the denominated coordinates," Andora said, undisturbed as an atmospheric shift sent them into a roll. Adriaan relaxed and let the ship go with the flow.

"It's not here," she said, looking at Darc.

The disbelief on his face was genuine. "But it's _got _to be here!" he said. "Stop grinning at me like that, Ree! You've got to believe me!"

"I believe my eyes more than I believe _you_," Adriaan said coldly. "And my eyes don't see anything."

"But what does your heart tell you?"

"Excuse me?"

"The Force, you idiot! I've been out of Jedi training for three years now, but even I remember the important lesson of _trusting your feelings._"

"My feelings spring from anger." The words were ripped out of her mouth before she had time to weigh the consequences of saying such a drastic thing. Realizing that she had perhaps revealed too much, she hastily went on. "However, I do sense something else…"

"Love?" Darc asked stupidly.

The Wicked Club screeched and covered their ears. "Ew! Love GOOD!"

Their Master had tuned out all background noise, concentrating on the darkness that covered the vidscreen. Something was displaced here, something that didn't belong…

A sudden atmospheric wave sent the craft flying forward into the blackness. Adriaan had to fight to keep control of the ship.

Just then the blackness was killed by a burst of light that was so bright that it took several moments for their eyes to adjust to the glare and see what they had run into.

Adriaan blinked, sensing the confusion of the others around her. The blackness of space shot with pinpoints of stars had disappeared, replaced by a bleak, shadowy landscape with deeps chasms and grey slopes. Was it simply an illusion, a vision conjured up by the dark side?

They didn't have time to wonder what had happened. The sensors started to blink alarmingly, announcing that they had just entered the inner atmosphere of the planet. "The planet"? So Umbria existed, after all.

"You all owe me _big_ time for finding this place!" Darc yelled as the ship plunged toward the surface.

"I'll owe you even more if you keep your big trap shut!" Adriaan roared back, fighting to keep the tiny craft level to the surface of the planet. "Andora, start the landing cycle!"

After several fruitless moment, Andora looked up from the console. "I'm contrite that it is not feasible to initiate the landing cycle, Master. You see, that concluding vibration collided with us broadside, debilitating all the controls."

"You're joking."

"In my WICKED experience, Andora never WICKEDLY jokes," Aedan said.

Klamin leaned forward to examine the controls. "She's right; the hydraulics system is completely fried. So are the lateral controls and the stabilizers…pretty much everything, in fact."

Adriaan bit her lip to resist the temptation of screaming. "Is there any way you can at least get the hydraulics back on? I just need a little power to land –––"

Klamin was already shaking his head. "Nope. No way. Not in this situation; I'd need to wait until the system cooled down before I could get to work on it. And by that time, the ship could have crashed three times over. Sorry."

"I'll just have to do this without landing gear, then," Adriaan said, her fingers moving quickly. "Andora, does this ship have drag fins?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Extend all drag fins."

The ship jerked, then slowed its suicidal descent to the planet. But the surface was still looming up fast.

Adriaan eased the craft so that it was at a parallel angle to the ground, then cut the power. They needed to come in as cooled off as possible.

The controls smoked. Flames shot out from the sides of the ship, staining everything a reddish color. General ell Talaan hung on, refusing to give in to fear. They would make it. They had to.

"We're not going to make it," Marya predicted gloomily.

"Don't be so pessimistic," Jordin said, her face nonetheless pale as she nervously giggled.

"WICKED King, will we still be WICKED if this ship crashes and we croak with it?" Andre asked.

"GOODLY No," Minir said.

Aedan glared at the comedian. "WICKEDLY yes."

"No," Sai'wer said.

"WICKEDLY yes!" Nic insisted.

"GOODLY no," Heatrian said.

"WICKEDLY yes!" Kien shouted.

"GOODLY no!" Terry yelled louder.

"WICKEDLY yes!" Andre screamed.

They all looked at Jahn Pal, who had fallen asleep despite the peril of the situation.

"Sai'wer, go to sleep!" Sai'wer said, nudging his cousin awake.

"Muh…uh," Jahn Pal looked around, confused. "Spink leaves! Bantha fodder! I want it! Yes!"

"Yes!" Aedan, Nic, Kien and Andre shrieked triumphantly. "WICKED!"

Adriaan bit her lip till the blood flowed. "Andi, help me keep the ship level," she said to Andora over the noise of the Wicked Club. Aedan's twin immediately complied in her usual burst of efficiency.

"What should the rest of us do?" Kay Lee asked, her hands gripping the armrests tightly.

Adriaan's eyes watered as the surface zoomed toward them. Close-up, the harsh, bleak landscape looked hard and unappealing. It was definitely not the location she would choose to stage a crash-land.

"Just hang on!" she screamed as the ship tilted downward. The controls were now so slippery with sweat it was as if they had been heavily slicked with a coat of oil and soap. It was unbearably hot to touch, too; she could feel it burning into her flesh, even through the thick combat gloves she wore. She hoped that afterwards her hands wouldn't be so impaired that she wouldn't be able to hold a lightsaber.

"Master, we're coming in too hot. Slow down." Andora said tranquilly, not at all perturbed at their present situation.

"I can't!" Adriaan said, far from being as calm as her Padawan. Her muscles tightened in anticipation of the landing.

The restraint snapped as soon as the ship came in contact with the ground. Adriaan's body left her seat and flew up into the air, dangling in space like a lifeless doll. If she hadn't kept her hold on the controls, she would have surely broken her neck on the ceiling. The second jolt sent her slamming into the floor, knocking the breath from her body. Pain shot through every particle in her being. She felt as though she were being torn apart. As the craft skidded and screeched across the ground, the controls were ripped out of the socket, and she was sent flying to the farthest end of the cockpit. She whacked her head against a clone trooper helmet, and grimly wondered if the clone inside it was still alive. She had never felt so helpless.

The ship bumped again, and this time she accessed the Force to keep herself floating between the ceiling and the floor of the cockpit. She looked around, but the craft was being jarred too much for her to see anything clearly. Something flew by her head and hit the ceiling, and she winced at the noise that it made. When the object flopped back down to the floor again, she reached out blindly and Force-pulled it toward her.

It was a body. Still warm. At first her heart caught in her throat when she touched it. Was the person dead? She almost didn't dare to check for a pulse, but she felt that she had to. Relief washed over her when she felt the flutter of a heartbeat against Kan's neck. He was probably more than a little dazed by that hit on the ceiling, but he would be okay. Holding his limp body securely underneath her left arm, she began to make her way around the cabin, Force-pulling the other thirty-five bodies toward her. She counted them off in her head: Kan, Kay, Klamin, Jordin, Marya, Andora, Aedan, Andre, Nic, Terry, Heatrian, Kien, Minir, Jahn Pal and Sai'wer, Wolf, Ember, Skipp, Rez, Shakir, Ammo, Tau, Delta, Nano, Fyre, Drag, Brannd, Cor, Storm, Onor, Jys, Vyto, Vikk, Lance, and Darc. She had them all. Most of them were just unconscious, she hoped. It didn't matter. She could sort the dead from the living later. Now was the time to get out.

Except there was one problem. She couldn't find the button that let down the ramp. She couldn't even figure out where the exit was. She had become disoriented. And the ship was falling apart into little tiny flaming bits. If they didn't get out soon, they were all going to end up roasting like bantha kabobs.

So Adriaan decided to get out the easy way. By cutting her way through the vidscreen.

It was tough extricating her lightsaber from her utility belt, especially with both arms occupied with keeping her companions from smashing into the floor or the ceiling, but she managed it in the end. Using the Force, she directed the blade and soon cut a large hole in the canopy. One by one, she pushed her friends out of the cockpit, then launched herself through the hole and into empty space. She hung in the air for a moment, feeling the Force gather around her. She felt the Padawans who were still conscious join her in a feeble effort to access the Force. With their help, all thirty-six of the group were able to keep hanging in midair.

She felt the heat of the exploding ship hit the small of her back, propelling her forward on a wave of magma-hot energy that set her tunic and hair aflame. She did not feel any panic; she calmly soared on the air till she and the others were a safe distance away from the inferno. Then they lightly landed on the hard earth; tired, disheveled, and dirty, but alive.

Adriaan rested for a few moments, stretched out flat on the rocks, her face pressed into the ground. Then she sat up and stretched out her limbs. She wiped a hand across her sweaty forehead and ran her fingers once through her hair. Her hand came back streaked with ash. The taste of smoke and blood was on her lips, her robes were burning, her hands were red and throbbing painfully from burns, and her hair was singed and stuck out in all directions as a fierce wind picked up, carrying the smell of flaming metal into her nostrils.

These were moments she lived for.

Kay Lee sat up dizzily, brushing her red-blond hair away from her face. "What happened?" she asked, her gaze wandering toward the heap of rubble that had once been their ship. She closed her eyes. "Oh, never mind…I honestly don't want to know."

Adriaan rose quickly to her feet. "Are you all right?"

When the assistant trainer nodded, she turned away and began to look to the needs of the others. Most of the clones had been protected by their armor and were now sitting up, looking at their surroundings with some confusion. Kan, Marya, Heatrian, Nic, Andre and Aedan were also awake and quite active.

Adriaan fumbled in the survival pack she had managed to sling onto her back before the crash and took out an emergency medical kit. She handed another kit to Kay Lee and Vyto and began to administer to the ones who were hurt or unconscious. Luckily, no one had died. Yet.

"What I don't understand is how we didn't see this place until we were plunging through the inner atmosphere," Darc said a few hours later. He was sitting, his back supported against a rock, watching as Kay started a small campfire. The group had moved away from the inferno and had set up a small base in a ditch about a kilometer south from where the remains of the ship rested. They couldn't move much farther; they were too exhausted. Vyto and Vikk were administering to the various sprains, cuts and bruises of the Padawans and clone troopers. Luckily, there were no broken bones or organ damage, otherwise the mission would have been compromised. Adriaan had said they had been incredibly lucky to make it out of the burning cruiser at all. Kay still couldn't believe how her Master had managed to get them all out. Yet here they all were.

Kay felt a little guilty that her only regret was that the crash hadn't killed a few of them ––– people such as Aedan, Andre, Nic, Klamin or Darc. Especially Darc. His constant flirting with her and Adriaan was seriously grating on her nerves. She honestly could not understand how Adriaan ––– whom some of the Padawans liked to refer to as "General-this-is-serious-so-no-nonsense" ––– could have possibly been Darc's old-time friend, unless she had been an entirely different person as a child. If that were the case, Adriaan must have undergone a complete metamorphosis.

"…It was like we dove straight through a black curtain, or a holographic scrim, or a giant cloak or something…"

"Maybe it was a giant planetary cloaking device," Kay Lee said suddenly, flinching as a shower of sparks flew up into her face when she threw another piece of wood onto the fire.

"Hey, I think you've got something there. Man, you're a smart little kid –––"

"I'm seventeen," Kay Lee said automatically. "And I outrank you."

"All too true, baby," Darc said smoothly, crossing his legs and stretching luxuriously. "So, where do you come from? Oh wait…I forgot that you're a Jedi student. You guys don't care about homeworlds, or family, or even starting a family, do you?"

"You would know. You were once a Padawan."

"The problem is, I've forgotten all the Jedi teachings over the last couple of years. I've been working out, but my Force skills have fallen completely out of practice. When I first quit, I accessed the Force from time to time, just to keep my skills sharp, but then I figured: what's the point?"

"You shouldn't have done it in the first place. You shouldn't use the Force once you've left the Order. Without the Jedi Masters to guide you, the dark side can easily corrupt you and dominate your destiny."

"Yeah, anyway, besides the moral reasons, I didn't see a point to it, since I wasn't going back, and since I wasn't thinking of making a career as a bounty hunter. But lately I've been thinking…"

"You think? That is a startling revelation." Adriaan and Wolf suddenly rounded the corner, carrying Shakir between them. Adriaan's gaze roved over Kay and Darc keenly. "What's this about the Jedi dropout using his noodle, Kay?"

"Ree, you know I was no dropout –––" Darc began.

"How should I know? I was in critical condition in a medical center when you quit. How do I know that that life-changing decision wasn't of your own free will? You were so gifted, and you loved training at the Jedi Temple. Perhaps the Council forced you to leave."

"Something is seriously wrong with you. You were never this cold as an Apprentice. What did they do to you?"

"Cold? I just saved your sorry life, and _that _is the word you use to describe me? Cold?! Let's just say I made a more…profitable decision than you did."

"Oh, so now on top of being called a dropout, I'm being classified as a fool and an imbecile! Well, if you want to get into another big blowout like last time, then bring it _on_ –––"

"Last time? What did you guys argue about _last _time?" Klamin asked, joining the group.

"That doesn't matter," Adriaan said briskly…almost too briskly, Kay thought. "I think it is time we had another group huddle. Go call the others."

Five minutes later, thirty-six people had assembled around the tiny campfire. Everyone took a seat in the circle and looked at the General, waiting for her to begin.

Adriaan cleared her throat and looked at each of them in turn. "I admit, this was not supposed to happen," she said. "The original plan was to find Umbria and land on it in one piece. We succeeded, partially. I did not expect that nebula to be quite so, um…aggressive. I misjudged my own abilities as a pilot, and I would like to start out by apologizing to you all for my incompetence."

"Ah, it's not your fault, Commander," Wolf said.

"Don't blame yourself, it was the ship that failed," Comet added.

"Yeah, and while we were letting ourselves get battered into jam, you kept your head and figured out a way to get us all out of the ship alive," Klamin said. "You're hero in my book."

"It's all your GOOD fault," Aedan said bluntly.

"The galaxy was just fine until _you _showed up and ruined the WICKEDNESS," Andre said.

"A _Hutt_ could have WICKEDLY navigated through that GOOD old nebula better than you," Nic said.

"You stink!" the Wicked Club yelled.

"As we were saying," Kay Lee said, with an angry glance at the obnoxious boys, "at least the worst is over."

"That was the easy part," Adriaan said abruptly.

The Padawans' expectant faces turned grim at this unfortunate news. A few of them looked confused.

"Easy? You call navigating through a fierce nebula _easy? _We almost _died!_" Jordin exclaimed.

"No we didn't; we were safe the whole time. Need I remind you that _I _am the one leading this mission?" Adriaan said. "Do you doubt my competence as your Master and General?"

"I meant no disrespect, Master, but you've got to be realistic. But then, you are never very realistic I mean seriously you like the smell of exhaust from an overheated plunk droid and you like sweat and filth and that is_ not_ realistic, so I can't really blame you for saying such a thing. Safe in a nebula, my foot!"

"All right, so we _were_ crossing the line between life and death for a few minutes out there. But so what? No place is truly safe. The point is that even though we _could _have died, we _didn't_."

"So you admit that what we just did wasn't easy?" Marya asked.

"Yes, I admit it. But if things weren't challenging in life, we would be bored all the time, right?"

"So if that was hard, and it was the easy part, and if the easy part nearly pulverized us, and if the hard part is harder than the easy part, and if the easy part wasn't really easy, but close to suicide, does that mean the hard part isn't really the hard part, but the impossibly diabolical part which will cause our untimely demises?" Jahn Pal asked.

It took everyone a while to digest that statement.

"Boohoo! We're all going to die!" Sai'wer screamed as soon as he understood what his cousin had said.

"No, we won't," Adriaan said reassuringly. "That's where me and Darc come in."

"How's that?" Kay asked.

"Where do _we _WICKEDLY come in?" Aedan demanded.

"And what does food come in?" Jahn Pal wondered.

"Bowls!" Sai'wer answered.

"I think it is time that I told you all something about my childhood," Adriaan said, sitting down cross-legged and staring into the fire. "Something that concerns the matter at hand."

All the Padawans immediately looked interested. Like Kan, they had all wondered what their Master had been like as an Apprentice. She had always disappointed them by keeping her mouth closed about the matter. Was this finally the time when she would trust them with the secret of her past?

Adriaan leaned forward. "What we just did, no ordinary star pilot would have the guts or skill to attempt," she began. "To travel through a nebula, you must be one or all of several things: extremely brave, extremely desperate, really insane, overconfident, or just plain stupid. To successfully navigate through a nebula, it helps to have a ship that won't fail. Few people own a craft with such capability, and people who do own such a ship are rich, and have no need to test it in such a danger zone. That narrows the possibility of pilots who would venture into a nebula; and we must ask ourselves this question: is Grievous one of them?"

"Are you inferring that he's not here at all? Swell," Kay muttered. "Next time, tell me when you're not certain about the enemy's location."

"It was you that first thought of this place as a suitable location," Adriaan reminded her.

"Yeah, but I didn't know the particulars of this mission, or the target. Everything I've heard about General Grievous has been mere rumors on the HoloNet –––"

"What I am about to tell you is no rumor filtered through an Intergalactic broadcast," Adriaan interrupted. She stared into the fire for a moment in silence.

"I knew Grievous when I was a kid," she said suddenly.


	10. A Grievous Past

Chapter 10

"Whoa whoa whoa, what do you mean by 'I knew Grievous when I was a kid'?" Darc demanded. "You never mentioned someone named Grievous, as far as I can recall…"

"You must have not been listening."

"That is a possibility. So, where did you meet this cyborg beauty, exactly?"

She frowned. "Well, he wasn't a cyborg when I knew him."

"So you don't know for sure that you knew him?" Kay asked.

"I am certain he is the same."

"Why? Have you actually seen him face-to-face?" Klamin asked.

"Well, no, but –––"

"Master, with all requisite deference, it is not Jedi-like to conjecture anything. Perspicuous, your mental faculties must be, if you are ascertain your verified contenders," Andora said.

"Thanks, professor, I'll keep that in mind," Adriaan said through gritted teeth.

"Let the General explain," Wolf said to the others. "It seems like she has a story to tell."

"I'll make it brief," Adriaan said. "When I was about thirteen or fourteen, I and two other Padawans ––– one of them you, Darc ––– were sent on our first solo mission. Our goal was to infiltrate a pirate corporation that had been terrorizing systems in the Mid-Rim. We found the hideout, all right, but in an unexpected way; we were captured and sold into slavery."

"Wow," Klamin said.

Adriaan ignored the interruption. Being a Master of fifteen Apprentices, she was used to the nonstop commentary. Anyway, she knew that Klamin was notorious for never keeping his mouth shut. It was one of the many reasons why he wasn't her favorite Padawan.

"I remember that," Darc said. "We were both sent directly to the city walls to help fortify the pirate city. The planet was freezing cold, and a lot of us had no shoes, or even a cloak…"

Adriaan sighed. "Darc, this isn't a tactic to generate sympathy from the Padawans," she said. "We don't need to go into detail about our discomfort."

"'Discomfort'? That's putting it rather lightly," Darc snorted.

"Was Ra'hal on that mission?" Klamin asked at random.

Adriaan and Darc both looked at him sharply. "Yes," Adriaan said finally. "She wasn't sent to work on the wall; she was sent immediately to the palace as a dancing girl. But that's not an important detail right now. The point is, after a few weeks on the wall, I had attracted the notice of many pirates, particularly the leader of the operation…"

"What she means is that she caused so much trouble for the slave drivers that she was brought to the leader of the pirates to be executed," Darc broke in.

"Thank you, Darc," she said through clenched teeth. "Anyway, the leader was so impressed with my defiance and lack of fear that he granted me amnesty and offered me a job at the palace…"

"In other words, during the trial she grabbed a sword and began fencing with some of the pirates," Darc said. "She was beating the snot out of them, too. The pirate king felt that she would be very useful at the palace, so she was given as a bodyguard to the mercenary princess."

"Thank you _again, _Darc," Adriaan said. "Now, if you don't mind, can I please finish this?"

"What are you waiting for?" Darc asked, leaning back against the rock comfortably. "I'm all ears."

"During the time I served at the palace, the corporation was visited by a legendary warrior from the planet Kalee. This Kaleesh had traveled halfway across the galaxy to this hideout because he had heard rumors that the pirates had enslaved Jedi."

"Why would he be interested in captured Jedi?" Kay Lee asked.

"Because he was a great warrior," Adriaan said patiently. "And he had the illusion that the Jedi were the greatest warriors in the galaxy. He was not a Force-sensitive, but he wanted to learn Jedi combat forms, and so perfect his skills as a battle hero."

"So he came to the pirate hideout to buy a Jedi slave."

"Exactly. And who do you think he bought?" Adriaan glanced sidelong at Darc. "Not Chun-be, who was still working on the palace walls at the time. Not Ra'hal, who looked more like a dancer than a Jedi."

"But if not them, whom could he have picked?" Jahn Pal wondered.

"Yeah, they were the only Jedi slaves around," Sai'wer said. "Maybe he bought the pirate princess."

"Or maybe he bought a Force-sensitive bantha," Jahn Pal suggested.

Adriaan slapped a hand to her forehead. "He bought _me_, you morons! I had a private interview with him, and during that conversation, I learned a lot about this Kaleesh. For example, he told me that he was called Grievous because of the great sorrows he bore, not because of the grievances he brought to his enemies."

"What were his sorrows?" Klamin asked.

"I don't know, and that's not important. His real name was Qymaen jai Sheelal. His homeworld was being invaded by an alien species, and he had spent a lifetime fighting these brutal creatures off. Apparently, his best friend had been slaughtered in a skirmish against the invaders. He was so angered by this, that he invaded the _invaders _homes and began killing them off, even after peace had been established between the two planets."

"Some peace treaty," Darc declared.

"He made it quite clear in the interview that once he took me to Kalee, my purpose in life would only be to teach him all I knew about Jedi combat," Adriaan continued. "Once he had learned everything from me, he promised that he would be the one to kill me, and that I would die swiftly. Naturally, I wasn't really keen on the idea of serving him, so I escaped. I never saw him again. The end."

"Wow. Way to add drama to the story," Darc muttered.

Adriaan's stare was flat. "There was no need to add any."

"Well, I realize that being directly involved in a story is a dramatic experience, but there's a certain art to telling a tale so that it makes other people feel that they were actually there, too."

She turned away. "I am not here to arouse the minds of unobservant buffoons with polished fairytales. Don't you get that this mission isn't a joyride for your amusement?"

"I do realize that, Ree," Darc protested. "I just like to add a little lightness to a precarious situation."

"I almost wish I had gone with Kaleesh-Grievous," Adriaan shot back. "If I had made that choice, at least I wouldn't have to tolerate the arrogant sounds that constantly pour from your mouth."

"Grr!" Kay Lee tittered.

"Meow," Jahn Pal said.

"Purr," Sai'wer added.

"Silence! An uncivilized location is no WICKED place to act like a WICKEDLY wild animal," Minir said.

"Pah! Anywhere is an appropriate place to act WICKED," Terry scoffed.

"That is not the point, guys," Kan said, speaking for the first time. Adriaan had noticed that he had been abnormally quiet lately, or maybe the other loudmouthed Apprentice brats just drowned him out. Whatever the reason, she had been hearing less from him.

_ Should that worry me? _She wondered. She knew so little of teenagers' needs.

"You know, I don't want to sound snobbish or anything," Kan continued, "but every self-respecting Jedi pupil knows that it is not polite to interrogate, criticize, or accuse a Jedi Knight."

"Hmm, strange to say, I am rather inclined to agree with you on that statement," Marya said. "But don't let it get to your head."

"Marya and Kan are so right!" Jordin exclaimed. "I declare, Kan, the rules of the Jedi seem to adhere to your brain like a mynock to a ship's hull –––"

"Thank you, Jordin, but I think they get the picture," Adriaan broke in smoothly. "Now, as Kan so kindly pointed out, I have not finished what I have begun to say."

"But you said, 'the end'" Aedan pointed out. "Therefore, we WICKEDLY inferred that you were GOODLY finished with the lecturing."

"As I was saying," Adriaan said loudly. "I feel that, regarding this piece of information about Kaleesh Grievous ––– if General Grievous is, indeed, the Grievous I was previously acquainted with ––– then it is entirely probable that our sufferings and lost means of transportation are not in vain. He is here."

"How do you know that?" Kay Lee asked. "After all, you were the one against coming to this place. Now you're all of a sudden saying that he's not a coward?"

"I didn't know for sure that it was him before."

Kan looked at her strangely. "You mean you know for sure now?"

She nodded.

"But how?" Wolf asked.

She raised her eyes from the fire. "I sense him."

Darc let out a breath. "Well, then that's a relief. For a second there, I actually thought you were going to say you had actual proof of his presence on this desolate rock pile." In a rare display of frustration, he kicked a rock lying near his foot. "Explain to me again why I decided to sign up to help you Jedi whackos."

"Our General is no fool," Ember said unexpectedly. "She has shown both intelligence and courage when making crucial decisions."

"I heartily concur," Andora conceded.

"Great, so we're trusting our lives to a seventeen-year-old freak's instincts," Darc muttered. "Well, this is a full-moon day."

"_Night,_" Klamin corrected, glancing up at the dark, churning sky. "At least, I think it's night. And without any moon or celestial illumination, I'm afraid."

Adriaan squinted at the sky. "Hard to tell," she said, shaking her head. "It's probably always this dark here."

"Oh, dear," Jordin said. "Darkness is infamous for attracting creatures with evil intent. Master, do you suppose there are potentially hazardous creatures that might come to tear us into little bite-sized pieces once they discover we're here?"

"You mean creatures like Grievous?" Kay jeered. "I doubt anything would choose this rock as a homeworld."

"This is no laughing matter," Adriaan said sternly. "All of you retire for the night and get a good sleep. We'll discuss this more in the morning. Now that we are in uncharted and hostile territory, we must proceed with all due caution. Understood?"

"Sir yes sir!" Everyone shouted.

In an undertone, Klamin remarked to Kay, "'Caution'? Has Adriaan ever put that virtue into practice?"

"Not unless she's terrified of something," Kan whispered, overhearing Klamin's comment.

This wasn't good. His Master was afraid. That meant something bad was bound to happen.

And something bad _did _happen.


	11. Surrounded by Enemies

Chapter 11

"I'm telling you, Kan Enik, this place is absolutely _creepy,_" Jordin said for the four-hundredth time.

They had been walking south all morning, without any sort of light to guide them. Umbria was a world constantly shrouded in darkness, with only brief bursts of light as an occasional sunray managed to peep through the dense fog of the nebula. The darkness made it hard for Kan to find sure footing on the hazardous, craggy surface of the planet. One false step could send him and Jordin plummeting to their doom. He had already had to save his companion from sulfur flames, a tar pit, a sinkhole, and a brief earthquake which had caused a small rockslide in the canyon they were now traveling in.

_"Small rockslide" is putting it lightly, _Kan thought with a wry grin as he soaked in the sight of his reflection glinting off the surface of his lightsaber hilt. Jordin was just as dirty and burned as he was, yet she had kept up the appearance of a lighthearted, carefree fool for four hours straight. He could tell by how she was walking that she was just as exhausted as he was, but her tongue never got tired.

"It gives me the shivers," Jordin chattered, as cheerful as if they were going on a pleasure picnic to Alderaan. "The hairs on my arm are standing on end…oh dear, and so is my hair," she said, suddenly coming to a stop. "Kan, do you have a comb? My hair is positively misbehaving this morning –––"

_If your hair is standing on end, watch out for lightning, _Kan remembered Ruru telling him that, during an outstanding thunderstorm on Coruscant.

"Jordin! Down!" Kan said. "Cover your head and stay in a crouching position and on your toes, now!"

"But why, Kan?" Jordin asked, nevertheless joining Kan in his uncomfortable position. "Is something wrong?"

Lightning suddenly ripped through the ground just centimeters from her face.

Kan was almost tempted to laugh at the look of shock frozen on the girl's face. Almost.

"Let's get moving," Kan said, jumping to his feet. "Lightning has a tendency to strike in the same spot more than once."

Jordin stood up shakily and sidestepped the burnt hole in the ground where the bolt had struck. "Isn't the saying, 'Lightning never strikes the same place twice'?"

"Ruru doesn't believe in that expression," Kan said. "He says that it's just nonsense."

Jordin looked at him sharply, her next comment dying on her lips. Kan strode quickly away, not daring to meet his friend's concerned gaze. Too late, he realized the slip he had made in tense. "Ruru doesn't" instead of "Ruru _did_"

Ruru wasn't his Master. Not anymore. Ruru had said that to Kan, but no more. For Ruru was dead.

_It's been a year now since Geonosis, _Kan thought angrily, _why can't I forget? Why is my grief not lessened? Why can't I remember that my Master is dead? _

_ Why won't my suffering end?_

"It's this planet," he said. He had an annoying tendency to answer his inner voice aloud, so that everyone could hear. "This planet is creepy."

"I've said that at least four-hundred times," Jordin said, her fears subsided by now. "Kan, that was very rude and unfair of you to not warn me about that lightning! I almost _died! _Do you know what it is like to _die?! _It's terrible! It's painful! It means that _you can't go back._"

_She's right. I can't go back. I can't go back to the time when my real Master was alive. What's done is done._

"I know what it is like to die," Kan said abruptly. "I also know when to be grateful to be alive and when to just _shut up._"

"How could _you _know what it is like to die?" Jordin prattled on, not taking the hint. "After all, you haven't died yet, have you? Or maybe you have, and you are just a ghost, coming back to haunt me. _Oh, _I do hope you are not a ghost, Kan. You'd tell me if you were, right? I know Marya wouldn't, and you two are so much alike I shouldn't wonder if you were dead and you wouldn't tell me…"

Lightning flashed across the sky. Kan's temples began to throb. He opened his mouth to say something, but no sound came out of his mouth.

"I'm sorry, but were you just attempting to interrupt me?" Jordin asked with cheerful politeness.

"Storm feels pretty bad," Kan mumbled.

"Well, _I_ should know, since lightning nearly struck me in the face two minutes ago." She frowned and glanced sharply at him. "Uh, Kan? Are you okay? What's wrong?"

Her voice seemed muffled, and dim. _Focus, Kan! _He heard his Master, Adriaan, say, _Focus your energy. Save your strength. When the mind wanders, the feet falters._

To shake off the overhanging drowsiness, he began to replay the morning briefing.

_"Unfortunately, the crash compromised nearly all our scanning equipment," Ember reported. "The nebula's energy interference has made external communications impossible. Without sensors, we won't be able to pick up any droid or lifeform readings."_

_ "So the only way to do this is the hard way," Adriaan said._

_ "You mean the other hard way wasn't hard enough?" Jahn Pal wondered._

_ "You have no idea just how hard this might get," Adriaan told them. "So I want you all to listen up! This is, most likely, the only chance I will get to thoroughly warn you about the dangers this mission might bring."_

_ "And what does that mean?" Kay Lee asked._

_ "Without sensors, the only way we can find a Separatist stronghold ––– which Grievous is almost certainly guaranteed to have ––– is by checking every square centimeter of this wasteland. To do this with the amount of supplies we have, it is imperative that we split up. Efficiency is the key here, kids, so don't be sloppy or make any stupid choices, or you're going to end up in a world of pain. AM I UNDERSTOOD?"_

_"Sir yes sir!"_

_ "How long will our supplies last?" Klamin asked curiously. As a swiftly growing young man, he was always hungry._

_ "Inventory report!" Adriaan called out. Shakir immediately stepped forward and snapped to attention._

_ "Thanks to General ell Talaan's quick rescue, we were able to retain most of our weapons supplies," he said. "Storm Squad lost most of the heavier artillery, but we still have fifteen detonators and a few blasters and sniper rifles to spare. As for medical equipment, we have nine emergency medpacks."_

_Darc frowned at this news. "That's not good."_

_"I agree," Adriaan said. "Though the Jedi are trained to be healers as well as warriors, I've always been better at cutting off limbs than reattaching them."_

_"Propitiously, I have had some inculcation in the laudable praxis of Force reparation," Andora said._

_ "I know some basic emergency procedures," Kay Lee added._

_"Don't forget me; I have full medical training," Vyto added. _

_Adriaan acknowledged the clone with a smile. _

She never smiles at me anymore, _Kan thought._ She always frowns when she sees me. She always has something negative to say about me.

_"What about food?" Klamin asked again._

_ "Yeah! Food!" The Wicked Club cried._

_ Adriaan and Wolf exchanged a look._

She's too close to some of them. She's too friendly to them. She's too attached to them. She's too attached to _Wolf._

_ "We have a couple of blankets, and six tents," Ember continued. "Frankly, with the looks of this place, we need more shelter."_

_ "And food," Klamin added. "What about food! How much do we have?"_

_ Adriaan bit her lip._

_ "Ree, we need to know this, too," Kay said sternly. "We're not a bunch of kids."_

_ This brought a strange smile to their Master's sad face. "And what makes you an adult?"_

_ "We can take starvation, but we need to know," Kay persisted._

_ All the boys in the Varactyl Clan broke out in a protest. "Hey, we never said anything about being able to take starvation…"_

_"Goodbye, tubby belly," Jahn Pal said sadly, looking down at his stomach._

_ "Goodbye, lard butt!" Sai'wer bawled._

_ "Enough!" Adriaan thundered. She paused, then continued in a quieter voice. "Kay Lee is right, again. Since you are putting your lives at risk by going on this mission, you deserve to know. Our food supplies are low. We kept most of the edibles in a conservatory next to the cockpit. All we have is whatever we brought in our survival packs."_

_ "B-b-but, that's only a few days' worth of food…" Klamin stammered._

_ "We're gonna die!" The cousins shrieked. _

_ "No, we're not," Adriaan said. "Do you know why?"_

_ "Because we're WICKED!" Aedan shouted matter-of-factly._

_ Adriaan glared. "Not only because we are wicked, but because we _have _to live. So none of you are going to die on me. We will go out in groups, carrying an adequate amount of supplies. We'll all meet back here in three days. We have to be on comm silence so that the Seps won't pick us up. They'll have scanners and perimeter defenses. Remember the coordinates for the campsite. And May the Force be With You. Ember will divide up the groups." She jumped down to the ground. "Come, Kan, I must speak to you for a moment."_

His line of thought began to break up as a pain like many sharp knives pierced his brain. As he struggled with the pain, he felt his control slip. Old memories began to pop up, unbidden, as he fought to keep his focus.

_ "Do not keep me waiting, bird of prey. It would be unfortunate if you fail to bring me Ra'hal a second time," the Dark Lord said to Kestrel._

_"Yes, Master."_

The reason you were kept alive was for vengeance. Give in to your anger. Fall to the dark side. It is easier than you think it is.

_Who is the Bird of Prey? Who are you? Who is Ra'hal?_

_ "Those questions I asked you…they were not just out of random curiosity," Kestrel, the dark Force-user, whispered. "I have had cause to believe that your Master has had affiliations with a sith cult. A dark Jedi was employed by Count Dooku several years ago, and she disappeared after betraying him. So by listening to your delirious musings, and the answers you gave me, I think that perhaps this Adriaan is yet another dark Jedi that knows the one dark-Force user we've been looking for –––"_

_ "I want to be a good Master to you, Kan," Adriaan said. "I won't ever turn my back on you, for I know how it feels to be alone."_

His Master's head turned away from him. Her smiles were no longer for him. Instead, she smiled at someone else, her _new _favorite…

_Who is she? Who is my Master?_

_ "So you think that no one should grow up," Adriaan said. "So you think that someone always has to be there for you. Well, no one can stay forever Kan. We all have to die someday. You didn't blame your old Master for dying, so why you are throwing a tantrum about me temporarily leaving is beyond me –––"_

_ She always has an excuse to make for her negligence. For her _weakness.

"Kan. Snap out of it!" Jordin yelled.

_Foolish girl. You say so much and yet your words mean NOTHING._

_ "You don't care, do you?" Kan yelled. " You're risking your position as a Jedi Knight, and wasting time babbling to the Jedi Council about these blasted little orphans that you think need your protection. Well, here's a breaking news report for you: they can take care of themselves. Why can't you stick to your own business? When you put yourself at their side, you're leaving me all alone."_

_ "Now you're exaggerating," Adriaan said. "Don't come in here screaming at me. I haven't been ignoring you, and I haven't abandoned you. I'm giving you a chance to put your Jedi skills to work! All Padawans have to go through this stage. They can't have their Masters hovering over them all the time."_

_ "My Master is not a dark Jedi! She serves the Jedi Order, not traitorous people like the sith!" Kan screamed at Kestrel._

_ "Kan, I sense much anger in you. Do not underestimate the seductiveness of this planet," Adriaan said once they were alone. "It is strong in the dark side. Do not think yourself as incorruptible. Ignore your instincts at your peril." _

_ "I can do it."_

_ She raised her eyebrows at him. "Want me to go with you?"_

_ "I can handle this alone."_

_ Suddenly she looked sad, and much older. "Then take Jordin with you. When you feel your mind slipping to the dark side, I want you to ask her for help. Don't let your pride get in the way. Even the greatest need the aid of the weakest."_

_ "If only you knew," Kestrel said; he sounded so soft, and comforting, like what a Master's voice should be. "If only you knew the truth, you would be granted immeasurable power._

_ "Kan, have you ever considered that perhaps you are fighting on the wrong side?"_

"Jordin," Kan said. "I need –––"

Suddenly fingers of lightning licked across their bodies. They fell to the ground, rolling away from the torturing bolts of electricity. Kan fished out his lightsaber and used it to redirect the lightning into the canyon wall.

Their assailant was a tall humanoid, clothed from head to foot in strange, black and gold armor. There was not one square centimeter of skin showing on the attacker's whole body, making it seem all the more terrifying and inhuman. From its left gloved hand, a small orb of lightning pulsed. In its right hand, there was a lightsaber.

"_Oh,_" Jordin breathed, awestruck. "Is…is that General Grievous?"

"I don't know," Kan answered. Something about the black-armored figure made him hesitate. A cold shiver of fear ran down his spine. The dark side was strong in their opponent.

The assassin lunged forward, lightsaber raised. Kan blocked the first stroke and rolled away as the assailant swiped at him again.

"Whatever this guy is, he isn't friendly!" Kan shouted.

* * * * *

"…After a few months as a bartender, I decided to make a career as a breakdancer. I was so awesome people came from all over the system just to see me perform. I got a sweet joint with some street musicians, and they played some great backup music for my dance routines. The performances were so kriffing hot all the girls practically melted all over me. I've invented a hundred dance moves. Do you clones know how to breakdance?"

"No."

Darc barely stopped talking to hear Wolf's abrupt response. "Quite a useful skill to acquire, you know ––– dancing, that is."

"How so?" Klamin asked.

"Dancing impresses girls. They love you for it. They chase you around everywhere. It got bad enough once that I had to hide in a refresher for two hours, and then they tore it down because they wanted autographs. I've signed my name on so many pieces of flimsiplast that just the sight of a pen now makes me break out in a sweat."

"You poor thing," Adriaan remarked with mock sympathy.

Adriaan was thoroughly annoyed, but she was very careful not to let Darc know that he was getting under her skin. It would make him proud of himself, and that would make him all the more worse.

Adriaan was not ashamed to admit that she hated Darc Chun-be. As for the others on her squad, she mistrusted Klamin, and Wolf seemed almost antisocial. The sad thing was, this was the best group she could have possibly gone with. She had a few of the clones with her, while the rest of Shadow Squad had separated and gone with the Padawan teams. She didn't mind the troopers; it was Apprentices she had trouble with. Jordin was excessively talkative, Kan was unresponsive, Heatrian was messy and potentially hazardous, Marya was surly, Nic was too wild, Andre too loud, Jahn Pal and Sai'wer too dumb to be any good; Kien had an utter disregard for personal hygiene, Minir was creepy, Terry was a jerk, Andora always made Adriaan feel painfully aware of her own faults, and Aedan…

Adriaan shook her head. There was no words that could accurately describe _that _one.

Kay was all right, but she lacked obedience. Adriaan didn't blame her; they were, after all, the same age. And Kay Lee wasn't her official Padawan; she was a Knight Initiate. It was Adriaan's job to keep her in line for the next few years, for Kay would be a Jedi Knight soon. Adriaan had to make her ready for the Jedi Trials.

"Sir, while I trust your judgement, I have to disagree," Ember was saying now.

"So what's the problem, kid? Tried dancing, but people threw you out of town? Is that the trouble? Well, we can't all have the same gifts, 'cause then there'd be nothing you could do that would impress people. Take my advice, kid; if you can't dance, try singing. And if you can't sing, just be a jerk, and no one would know the difference. Girls tend to like jerks best, anyway."

"I've never danced, sir. All I was going to say is that none of the girls I've met would be impressed by such a…questionable occupation."

Adriaan attempted unsuccessfully to hide her grin with a scowl. What she liked about Ember was the he could be so impudent and yet so _civil _at the same time.

If Ember had said that to any other man, he would have most likely received a prompt punch in the gut. But Darc had an extraordinarily good-natured disposition. He simply laughed.

"And how many girls have you known? The stony-faced twin of Aedan? The grumpy Zabrak? The chatterbox redhead? The haughty Princess-warrior? The manly Adriaan ell Talaan?"

"Manly, indeed!" Adriaan burst out. "If I were a man, you would only be a baby just learning to walk on his own two feet."

"And I wouldn't call Kay a Princess-warrior if I were you," Klamin warned.

Darc shrugged, his smile as broad as ever. The group continued on in a few moments of blessed peace.

After five minutes, Klamin ––– who could never stay silent for long ––– asked, "Can we stop and eat now? I'm starved."

"We aren't stopping," Adriaan said shortly.

He morphed into a Besalisk. "Then we aren't going to eat?"

"I never said that."

"But you said we wouldn't stop –––"

"Eat while you're walking, kid," Darc said, preventing Adriaan from snapping at her clueless Apprentice.

Glumly, Klamin removed several days' worth of rations from his pack and began to shove it into his mouth with an injured air.

"Whoa, kid, stop shoveling so fast," Darc exclaimed. "Or you're going to regret it next time you get your weight checked!"

"Oh, I won't get fat," Klamin said confidently, stuffing another handful down his throat.

"Any fatter, you mean," Darc said. "Stang! What a waste of flesh!"

"You mean food?" Adriaan inquired. "I agree. Klamin, I know you're larger than any of us, but we sort of need to cut down on the eating."

"Not food! The kid's going to get so fat that he won't be attractive anymore!" Darc moaned.

"Is that all you care about?" Adriaan demanded. "When is it going to penetrate your thick skull that _Jedi don't care about looking nice?!_"

"Well, stang, Ree, there's no need to destroy the kid's dreams –––"

"Well, _stang_, Darc, I'm just trying to be realistic," Adriaan said in the same tone of voice. "Klamin is fine. He's always eaten this way, and the only time that he's been overweight is when he shapeshifts into a Hutt. So stop worrying."

"Well, if he had _me _as a role model, I bet he'd be much different…in a good sort of way."

"So you're saying I'm a bad influence on him?"

"Can I wring his neck for you, ma'am?" Rez asked eagerly.

Darc held up his hands. "Hey, I didn't mean it that way! All I'm saying is that I'm an extraordinary guy and would be an extraordinary influence on the little…big…changeling."

Adriaan snorted her disapproval.

"Yep, it's true," Darc continued obliviously. "For example, I have a well-tempered disposition, unlike many people…no one in particular," he added hastily, with a glance at Adriaan, "I'm just a great guy to hang around with. Not to mention, I'm handsome."

Adriaan made a rude grimace, expressing her disagreement.

"I've been described as cute, hot, handsome, adorable, possessing good genes, and…"

Adriaan snickered, interrupting him. "With due respect, of all your disagreeable qualities, Darc, your looks are the worst," she said.

"Ooh! Feel the burn!" Klamin said, morphing into a Pyronite.

Darc did seem to be feeling the burn. His tanned skin had flushed red with a mixture of embarrassment and rage. He shut his mouth and was actually completely silent for the next ten minutes. Adriaan grinned but pushed her feeling of triumph down. It was not Jedi-like to feel happy in the success of offending someone. Despite her years of Jedi training, she still had trouble dispelling her gleeful thoughts.

They were moving swiftly toward Umbria's north pole. Already, Adriaan could see the stark, craggy outlines of steep mountains jutting out on the horizon. She calculated that at the pace they were going, they would reach the range in a day. Mountains offered protection and secrecy, so they would be an ideal location for General Grievous' hideout. Once there, the group would examine the base, then meet the others back at the camp, where they would assess the situation and determine a strategy for infiltrating the Separatist lair. These were the directions she had given to all the Padawans.

She could only hope that they would heed her commands.

_Go south._

"Did you say something, General?" Wolf asked.

Adriaan was yanked out of her musings. Go south? No. She was supposed to go north. Kan and Jordin were going south. They were the smallest group, and had the shortest way to go, since the ship had crashed near the south end of the planet. Go south? Ridiculous. Her Padawans could check out the south just fine without her.

"She was just talking to herself," Darc was explaining. "She does that a lot because she likes the sound of her own voice."

_Go south. _"Quiet!" Adriaan snapped. "You're interrupting me."

"Well, sorry, I didn't realize you were speaking, _Master._"

_Fool. There are more ways to communicate then by speaking. _Adriaan forced her brain to focus away from self-indulgent thoughts. Something was communicating to her…or someone. How could she hear them ––– no, it was a _her ––– _how could she hear _her_ if she was busy cursing Darc in her mind?

_Okay, you want me to go south. But why?_

This time, no voice answered her. Alarmed, she reached out through the Force, blindly groping for the voice that had spoken.

_Whoever you are, why should I go south?_

On the edge of a cliff now. There was a figure beside her. The person was tall and strongly built, and held a green lightsaber. She tried to turn her head to a better view of the person, but for some reason, she didn't have control of her own body. Against her will, she withdrew a purple lightsaber and held it across her body in a defensive stance.

She was being attacked. A strange, humanoid shape, much taller than she, and garbed in sleek, black and gold armor that shimmered like fish scales, stood in front of her. In its hand, a red lightsaber glowed evilly.

Then lightning raked across her vision, obscuring the two figures from her. But in the instant before her sight blinked out, she saw the armored figure advance toward her, slash at her with the lightsaber.

"KAN!"

Two voices shouted the name; one belonged to herself, and the other, though not hers, she knew well. It was a voice she rarely heeded, for it laughed as playfully and carelessly as a cool summer breeze. But now it was filled with terror.

She realized now what had happened. Jordin had called her. She had gone into Jordin through the Force, and the Apprentice had shown her what was happening.

Jordin and Kan were being attacked.

"Move south!" she yelled, turning abruptly and knocking over Klamin and Darc in the same instant.

"Master, what the heck are you doing?" Klamin yelled, jumping to his feet and jogging after her.

"And where are we going?" Wolf asked.

"I don't know. Just run!" Adriaan answered.

* * * * *

Kay Lee yawned and tried without much success to listen politely to Andora's lecture. Kay, the Kenobi twins, and a few of the clones had been traveling steadily east all morning, but the cliff walls that lay at the end of the journey seemed no closer than they had been five hours ago. It wasn't that she minded the exercise; it felt good to be moving out in the fresh air, even if the atmosphere was a bit gloomy. After being cramped on a star cruiser for two weeks, she wasn't going to be picky. Her companions weren't so bad, either. She had Andora, who was dependable, and the clones, who were creepy efficient, and Aedan…

Okay, so maybe the members of her team weren't _that _great. Andora lectured, the clones weren't exactly interesting conversationalists, and Aedan was just plain monstrous.

_But look on the bright side, _Kay Lee thought, _at least I'm not traveling with that son of a bantha, Chun-be._

"…You must perambulate with your spine vertical, and your cranium held unassertively high," Andora was the only person Kay knew who could be both boring and relentless. Kay Lee had made the mistake of sarcastically inquiring what she must do to become a "perfect" Padawan. Andora had not stopped sermonizing ever since. "Maquillage is deplorable for a Jedi to own, for it supplements seductiveness, and a Jedi must _never _be prepossessing."

Kay Lee blew at a wisp of reddish hair that fell into her eyes.

"Your tresses must be pristine; firmly pulled back and plaited," Andora continued. "Your robes ––– for they must be robes, and not a skimpy tunic and leggings ––– must be immaculate. Your lightsaber hilt, burnished. It must be fully charged and ready for prompt activity. Your utility belt must be properly equipped, and unsoiled. Your boots, as if they were just procured. As for your speech, you must be eloquent and possessing of a highly sophisticated vocabulary –––"

Andora's sermon was interrupted by a roar that rent the air overhead.

Cor raised his rocket launcher, scrutinizing the shadows that stretched across the bleak land. "What was that, Commander?"

"Her stomach!" Aedan chortled. "She has a WICKED appetite. Speaking of which, so do I." He withdrew several strips of meat from his pack and began chewing furiously on the bantha jerky.

"One must never give one's organs and bodily functions cause to make such horrendous pandemonium," Andora said severely.

"I'm not hungry," Kay Lee said, glancing up at the sky.

Storm, too, was examining the clouds. "Looks like Captain Kan is in for a thunderstorm," he commented. "But it's clear overhead for us."

"Is it possible that the noise was just thunder from down south?" Ammo asked.

There was another rumble, followed by a sharp howl that sent shivers down Kay Lee's spine.

"It's too close," she said. "Anyway, that last noise sounded nothing like thunder."

"Maybe the WICKED thunder here likes howling over rumbling," Aedan suggested. "If I was thunder, I would WICKEDLY scream for all I was worth, not growl like some GOOD." He took the jerky between his teeth and tore it to shreds in his frenzy to get the meat down his throat.

A shadow flitted from the corner of her vision, and Kay whirled at the movement. But there was nothing there. Her nerves on edge now, she walked on, her gaze alert.

Aedan, in the rear, was making many loud, satisfied noises as he finished his meal. "Me WICKED, me WICKED, and WICKEDS are hungry," he chanted, licking his fingers. "Hungry for soup? NO! Hungry for GOOD fruit? NO! Hungry for GOOD vegetables? NO! Hungry for nutrition? NO! Me hungry for MEAT!" He smacked his lips and did a little caper.

"Meat is a indulgence to be shunned by Jedi," Andora said. "To acquire the nutrients that exist in meat, all one must do is consume the humble fare of a protein pellet."

"Protein pellets are GOOD old cardboard sticks," Aedan protested. "But the meat of a GOOD bantha is WICKEDLY juicy and sweet!"

"Meat is a sinful repast," Andora said, folding her arms.

"Sinful? Even Master Yoda enjoys a bantha burger now and then," Kay Lee pointed out.

"Meat is WICKED," Aedan added matter-of-factly. "It is the WICKEDEST food ever. It is so WICKED that even wild, ravenous animals would rather eat WICKED meat than poor, helpless GOODS."

"Your verbalization only serves to corroborate your ignorance," Andora retorted. "Why, even a mere toddler understands that meat is –––"

She was suddenly cut off by a roar as several monstrous shapes materialized from the gloom and raced toward the tiny group. The clones raised their blasters and began firing, and the Jedi activated their lightsabers as the wild beasts bore down under them.

"We're under attack!" Andora cried.

"WICKED!" Aedan answered happily.

* * * * *

Running at breakneck speed for an hour was hard work, so in non-emergency circumstances, Adriaan would have been very pleased with their performance. The clones still showed no sign of flagging; the only one struggling was the "athletic" former Apprentice. Klamin didn't really count because he had simply shapeshifted into a Lightningite, arguably the fastest creature in the universe. He barely needed any energy at all when he morphed into this form.

But Adriaan felt they had barely any time. Even though she knew they were putting forth as much effort as they could, she only urged them on faster. If she had had a whip, she would have certainly given Darc a few lashes on his heels to spur him onward.

"Adriaan! We're going to give out if we keep going like this!" Darc shouted.

"You're the only one that seems to be having trouble!" Adriaan shot back.

"You're not going to have enough energy to fight once we get there!"

"Then at least I'll die with my Apprentice! It would save more energy if you'd stop talking for once!"

Darc gasped, his chest wracked with sobs. Even Shakir's grim face showed sympathy for the exhausted ex-Jedi.

"I can carry him, sir," Ember suggested.

"You will do nothing of the sort!" Darc retorted, his face purple. "Nothing like…morning…j-j-j-og t-t-to…w-w-wake u-u-up!"

"You will certainly outlast us all," Adriaan remarked scathingly.

There was a soft _thump _behind her. She didn't need eyes in the back of her head to tell her that Darc had fainted. She tossed her head and kept running.

"General, Darc's unconscious!" Klamin said, morphing back into a Shi'Odo. Lightningites, though fast, could not speak.

"I know."

"Aren't you going to do something about it?"

"Well, what _can_ I do?" Adriaan burst out. "We're in the middle of a wilderness, for star's sake! It's not like there's a medical center where I can dump him off."

"True, but we can't just leave him here."

"Yes, we can, and we will," Adriaan said. "He's slow and out of shape, and he would deserve it if he was left behind. I can't risk my Padawan's life for the sake of a wimp. When he recovers, he'll simply make his way back to the camp."

"But the CIS might find him."

"Unlikely. The CIS probably doesn't have scouts venture far from the base because they think that the Republic still hasn't discovered this planet."

"He'll get struck by lightning."

"Not today. There's a storm down south, but not up here."

"Wild beasts will devour him."

"Oh, kriff," she said irritably. "Since when have there been wild beasts in this wasteland?"

Just then, the air came alive with the howls of ravenous predators, giving chase to their victims. Above the deafening roars, the whine of jetpacks and the screams of clones and children assaulted her ears. She swerved toward the noise.

"That's Aedan and Kay Lee!" Klamin cried, recognizing the voices shouting for help.

Adriaan was suddenly knocked flat as the canyon wall burst open in a cloud of black dirt and rocks. Cor, Storm and Ammo barreled straight into the group as they flew through the opening. A Padawan was clinging to each clone's back.

"What the –––" Adriaan stuttered.

Her exclamation was cut off as four massive creatures plunged through the gap and lunged toward the group, yellowish-black fangs opening up in a snarl. Adriaan had never seen beasts like these before; they covered from tail to snout in thick, shiny black fur and scales. There were four eyes on each head, and on each tail there was yet another head with rows of razor-sharp teeth. Darc, who by now had regained consciousness, sat up and shrieked in pure terror at the sight of such monsters.

Adriaan rolled to her feet and activated her lightsaber as the largest animal leaped for her.

"No, you fool! Nothing works!" Kay Lee yelled, but it was too late. Adriaan waited till the animal was almost upon her, then chopped downward in one swift motion.

She cried out in surprise as the lightsaber blade flickered, then died out with a soft hiss. She rolled out of the way just as teeth as long as her own body snapped within three centimeters of her throat.

"What is it?" she screamed.

"They're invincible! Imperviously WICKED!" Aedan shouted, gazing at the beasts with a look of both adoration and fear.

"That happened to all of us, too!" Kay Lee yelled. "Lightsabers are useless against those things!"

Wolf stood up and fired a three-round volley at the creature. The blue lasers bounced off and hit the canyon wall with a _ping ping ping._

"Blasters, too," Kay Lee added. "You're lucky that didn't hit you."

Great. So the animals were impervious to any weapon that they had. That was stupendous news.

Adriaan was genuinely alarmed. In all her life, she had never encountered anything or anyone that could withstand the heat of a lightsaber. Never. Oh, of course she knew that there were certain materials that even a lightsaber could not penetrate ––– Mandalorian iron, for instance ––– but she had never seen anything that could cause a lightsaber blade to just…wink out. It was as if she had held her life in her hand and watched it flicker and then die.

_"Padawan, Padawan, you are such a fool!" her Master said for the billionth time that day. _

_She looked down at her broken lightsaber hilt, shamefaced. It had been the second time that she had broken her lightsaber, and she was truly sorry about that fact. It hadn't really been her fault that it had been broken, though. She had been working on her lightsaber throws, and she had hit the wall too hard, and it had shattered. The wall and the lightsaber, both. She had thought her Master would be proud at how strong she was, but instead, he had been angry. _

_ "Your lightsaber is your _life,_" he said. "No one but you could waste your life so recklessly."_

_ "I agree." She didn't really agree, of course; she just knew that if she concurred with everything her Master said, the lecture would be over much sooner._

_ "The crystal is the heart of the blade. The heart is the crystal of the Jedi. The Jedi is the crystal of the Force. The Force is the blade of the heart. All are intertwined. The crystal, the blade, the Jedi. You are one," her Master recited. "You know this. Why do you throw such a priceless gift away?"_

_ She shrugged, then said, "I am sorry. I won't do it again."_

_ "Will you? Are you so certain?" he shook his head, smiling. "You cannot possibly know all the choices you make in the future. Always prepare for the worst." He paused. "If this ever happens again, you may not be in so favorable of a situation to lose your blade. Next time you lose your lightsaber, you will probably lose your life as well. So, in case this happens again, this is what you should do."_

_ He leaned down till his eyes were level with hers. "Bluff your way out of the situation."_

Wow. Great technique. Thanks, Master. Like she could bluff her way out with these mindless creatures. Wait a minute…

She lifted up a hand, sensing the Force through the beasts. The Force flowed from her to the creatures. It flowed through all of them, through the galaxy, through the universe. She called to them as they cornered her companions.

_You don't want them, _she said to the creatures, _their meat is stringy and tasteless. Come with me. I know where good meat is._

The heads on the necks and tails turned and looked at her. Slowly, they backed away from their prey and moved toward her.

_Yes, come. You are hungry, and only I know where the food is._

They were so close now they could have killed her as easily as squashing a fly. She forced herself to breath slowly and calmly, knowing that they would be able to sense it if she was nervous. Now that she was closer to them, she could see each individual scale gleaming in the dim light, and she thought they were beautiful, in a terrifying sort of way. Saliva dripped from a beast's mouth and dropped onto her wrist, staining it a silvery color. The drool slid off her skin and plopped onto the ground, where it quivered like some live thing.

She was leading them farther and farther away from the broken canyon wall. She knew that about ten meters behind her, there was an abyss. She had no idea how she was going to make them jump down into the chasm, but she had to find a way. She had almost fallen into it herself when they had come that way five minutes ago.

The next step brought her to the edge of the pit. Arms upraised, she stared into the eyes of the creatures that had quietly followed her to the place. She hesitated, wondering what to do next. She was actually sorry that she had to kill them, for they had only hunted her companions because they were hungry. She doubted whether there was much of anything on this planet that these creatures could consume, and that made her wonder if they were really indigenous creatures to Umbria. Except for their dark scales, which blended in well with the dark landscape, they didn't seem well suited to the environment.

The creatures, sensing her disquiet, growled threateningly. Quickly, she composed her thoughts and sent a Force-message out to them.

_It's down here. You must jump to get to it. Do not be afraid. It is such a short drop for such an excellent meal. Go get it. NOW._

The creatures hesitated, fearful of the abyss. She gestured impatiently with her arm and shouted. "Get down, you scum, or you will get nothing!"

Prompted by this outburst, the pack roared and surged forward, nearly taking her down with them in their haste to leap into the hole. One by one, they disappeared through the hole in the ground, never to return.

* * * * *

Jordin was frightened. The strange man ––– if, indeed, it was a man ––– had been fighting them for hours. She had never felt so spent. People had told her that older people got tired more easily than children. If so, was this what old people felt like all the time? She felt sorry for them if that was the case.

The figure in the gold and black armor was almost certainly old ––– older than her, that is ––– yet he didn't seem tired. Whenever she found her blade clashing against his, she felt a painful jolt shatter through her arm. Sometimes the man held out a hand and shot lightning at them, but she and Kan had been able to block it, so far.

Kan shouted a warning to Jordin, and she ducked just as the Force-pushed rock flew over her head and hit the assailant full in the chest. The man staggered and fell as Kan sent a few more good-sized boulders crashing on top of him. Kan grabbed Jordin's hand and pulled her a short distance away to catch a brief respite.

"He's too…strong," Kan panted as he collapsed on the ground. "We can't hold out for much longer."

"Don't worry, someone will come help us," Jordin said encouragingly. "Someone always does."

Kan looked at her bleakly. "Maybe they won't this time."

The armored assassin had freed himself from the rocks and lunged forward without uttering a sound. The man had not made a single noise during the entire fight. Jordin wondered if the man was mute, and pitied him if he was.

The attacker had deactivated his lightsaber. Strange. Jordin held up her own blade defensively, yet hesitated. Was he really going to attack? She saw both of his arms go up, demanding peace.

"He's surrendering!" Jordin called out to Kan triumphantly.

But Kan saw something that Jordin didn't. With a cry, he sprang forward and executed a beautiful _Shiak ––– _a lightsaber thrust or stab.

As soon as the lightsaber touched the man's chest, the green blade flickered, sputtered, and went out like a candle. Kan stared at the deactivated blade with a shocked expression frozen on his face.

Jordin opened her mouth to remark that it served him right for attacking an unarmed man, but instead a cry was strangled out of her as the assassin sent Kan flying into the canyon wall, as easily as if he were just brushing off a fly. Now Jordin could see the explosives gleaming coldly in each hand as the man took aim and threw one in her direction.

Jordin began to run toward the man, hoping that the explosive would sail over her head. But what she didn't know was that her attacker had timed the throw to fall short of her. It arced down and hit her on the head.

From the canyon wall, Kan screamed and covered his face as the detonator exploded.


	12. Dead Secrets

**_Suy'cuy! _Welcome to Chapter 12 of _Behind the Mask. _If you have any criticisms/compliments/etc. after reading this section, please feel free to post a review. **

**Disclaimer: _Star Wars _is not mine, though any characters, planets, or creatures I have made up belong to me.**

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Chapter 12

Adriaan had just rounded the bend when the unidentified warrior threw the thermal detonator. What Adriaan saw afterwards made her feel as if she were watching a holovid. What happened after the throw was this: Jordin ran forward so that the explosive would sail over her. But the attacker was very clever; he had timed it so that the detonator would arc earlier than Jordin had anticipated. It was going to land right on her head, which was just what the assassin planned to happen.

Unfortunately, in his calculations, the enemy had left one critical figure out: he was attempting to murder someone that was Adriaan ell Talaan's Padawan. Which meant that no matter how cunning he was, he wasn't going to succeed. And that wasn't mere boasting on Adriaan's part, either; it was plain fact.

Her Master had been tough. Tougher than rancor hide. Her Master had said he would never be satisfied with a good Apprentice; he had to have a _great _Apprentice. Not great as in being obedient and trustworthy, but as in powerful, fast, and smart. True, those were good traits for a Jedi to have, but the Order honored respect and discipline over talent. Not so for her Master. Her Master had always been different.

And he had trained Adriaan to be different, too.

He had trained her for as many as twelve hours in a day, and he had rarely used the serene, cushioned training centers at the Jedi Temple, either. Instead, he had dragged her all over the galaxy, to have her run marathons in the deserts of Tatooine, swim laps in the powerful currents on Baroonda, climb the sheer cliffsides of Teth, fight multiple opponents such as Togorian pirates, or face off single combatants from Mandalore, who were far stronger and more experienced than she. Her Master had constantly worked her on improving her coordination and reflexes, slowly honing them in until she felt that she was more nexu than human.

And down in her durasteel guts, she knew that it was not Jordin's time to die. She was still young, and had a lot ahead of her. Adriaan did not the Jedi Master ability to foresee possible events, but the Force occasionally granted her brief glimpses of the future. Most of what she saw was filled with darkness and death; but they were balanced out with good things as well. Jordin was one of those good things; Jordin would bring hope to those who had none.

Jordin was not going to die that day.

In a movement so fast and subtle that no one really noticed it, Adriaan trained her gaze on the explosive and wiggled the tip of her little finger. The detonator changed direction in midair and sailed safely away from Jordin.

It was going to explode in exactly two seconds. Force-pushing it as far away from the Padawans as possible, Adriaan clapped her hands over her ears and dropped to the ground, screaming, "TAKE COVER!"

Everyone except Jordin had recovered enough to follow Adriaan's example. They covered their ears just as the detonator exploded.

_BAM!_

Even with her hands protecting her eardrums from the powerful blast, the sound shrieked through her brain and rang deafeningly in her ears. The charge had obviously been tweaked, otherwise it wouldn't be so loud. Adriaan could only hope Jordin and Kan were out of range of the explosion.

When it was all over, she lifted her face from the ground. A strange silence had fallen over the valley. As her companions sat up, dazed, Adriaan leaped to her feet and surveyed the damage.

The canyon wall where Kan had been had partially collapsed. The fallen rocks shifted slightly as Adriaan shouted and ran toward the spot. She began to frantically pull the stones away, scraping her fingers raw. Ignoring her pain, she yanked the next rock away and grabbed the dark head that appeared in the hole.

"Kan! Kan!" she yelled, brushing the rubble away from his smoke-stained face. He groaned feebly and opened his eyes, which glowed light gray against his dark skin.

"Ruru?"

His smile faded when he saw her relieved face, and that hurt her more than anything. His blue-gray eyes closed quickly, as if to shut out the sight of her.

_Am I really so repulsive to him? Does he not trust me? He didn't call to me through the Force; he should have done that. I'm his Master._

"I am sorry, Master…I failed," he muttered.

"Don't worry," Adriaan said. "Just lie still and let me get you out."

"Adriaan." It was Klamin's voice. Adriaan whirled around and fairly knocked him down.

"What!" she snapped. "Can't you see that I'm trying to get Kan out of here, you self-indulgent, kriffing _peedunki sleemo _–––"

Klamin waited patiently until she was out of breath. "If you've finished cursing me," he said pleasantly, "I would like to point out to you that although your attempts to get Kan out are heroic, it can be done much faster if you just use the Force to get him out. Here, I'll do it." The Shi'Odo easily Force-pushing the rocks off of Kan while Adriaan looked on, shamefaced.

Kan sat up, wiping the sweat and dirt from his eyes. He looked exhausted and beaten up, but okay otherwise. He began to look around fearfully. "Jordin –––"

"General ell Talaan!" Ember called out. "Come quickly!"

Jordin was sprawled in the dirt, blood dripping down the sides of her face. Adriaan ran forward to help the clone as he gently raised the girl from the ground. Jordin's eyes fluttered open at Ember's touch, and her pale lips brightened with color as she began to talk.

"I was wondering if you had heard my call, after all, Master," she said. "I –––"

Suddenly she stopped, a puzzled look on her face. "Am I talking? Or did that explosion make me mute? Can anyone hear me? Am I a ghost?"

"You're not a ghost, Jordin," Adriaan said, smiling at the confused girl. "You've still got your voice, all right…though if that is a good thing, I can't say."

The girl's lip quivered. She stared at Adriaan's mouth, uncomprehending. The explosion had obviously scattered Jordin's wits. She was on the verge of hysteria.

"It appears that the explosion has struck us all dumb," Jordin said shakily, "because I can't hear your voice, either, though it appears that you are trying to communicate to me." Suddenly her eyes opened wide in disbelief. "Come to think of it, I can't hear anything…" Her voice became so slow that it just trailed off.

Then Adriaan noticed that the streams of blood marking Jordin's cheeks were not from surface injuries. It was trickling from her ears.

"She's blown her eardrums," Adriaan said.

"Apprentice Skraps…not…dumb," Jordin said in a sluggish kind of voice as she attempted to understand Adriaan by lip-reading.

"She's needs medical attention, more than what we can give her," Vyto said after a brief examination of the Padawan.

"How can we contact the frigate? We're inside a nebula," Kay Lee said.

"An occasional communication can make it through," Adriaan said. "I'll access the emergency channel and see if I can get a clear frequency."

"Look, I'm no statistics droid, but I do know that the chances of sending a clear transmission in these conditions are pretty low."

"Well, I don't see any other options available at the moment," Adriaan answered, all ice.

"How much damage did our cruiser take?" Klamin asked suddenly.

Adriaan looked at her Apprentice with surprise. "It's taken enough to be grounded permanently."

"I noticed that the most damage was concentrated near the front and starboard sides of the craft," Klamin said.

Kay raised an eyebrow. "And how is that significant?"

"What I mean is that it appeared that the area where the escape vessels were located seemed to have the least amount of damage done to it."

"He's right, ma'am," Wolf piped up. "I went with Skipp to salvage what we could from the remains. The port side was nearly intact, but we didn't dare go in and check it more thoroughly at the time because the ship was still in flames."

"If even one escape pod is functional, it can be launched off the planet," Klamin said excitedly.

"I hate to say it, but Klamin's got an idea going here," Kay Lee told Adriaan.

But Kan frowned with disapproval. "Even if a pod is intact, and we got it back into space, Jordin would still have to risk going through the nebula again," he pointed out. "If we almost died the first time, what makes you think Jordin has more of a chance of succeeding in a clumsy escape pod, flying it with little piloting expertise? As far as I know, she's never flown _anything_, except maybe in simulations, and it's not like lifepods are the most maneuverable spacecraft in the galaxy."

All this time, the subject of their discussion had been staring at them, eyelids drooping lazily as she sluggishly tried to follow the conversation by watching the movement of their lip.

"I have no idea what is so important about a camping spot, and I think it is very rude of all of you to have a conversation that I cannot take part in," she said, her voice oddly mismatched with her sedated expression. "That's like having a birthday party and inviting everyone to come except me. Oh, dear! How can I know what I am saying if I can't hear my own voice? Have any of you wondered what it is like to be deaf? I know that_ I_ for one have not wondered. It is a gruesome experience, to be sure. It is terribly quiet, and everyone either feels sorry for you or ignores your impediment. I dearly hope that this calamity is not permanent, for if I do not get my hearing back, I will lose my amiability. Friendliness has always been associated with the ability to listen, so if I lose one, I am most certainly going to lose the other soon…" She paused, her head lolling to the side. One eye was completely shut now; the other was barely open. This wasn't like Jordin at all.

"What was I talking about? I can't hear myself," Jordin said, her voice slurred.

"Jordin, are you all right?" Adriaan asked. "You look like you've been given a sedative."

Jordin's eyes suddenly snapped open as she stumbled back into consciousness. Her gaze wandered for a few moments, then fell on the body of the armored assassin, which in all the commotion, had not been noticed until now. "How terrible it must feel to know that you have such a bad aim that when you threw a thermal detonator, you blew yourself up," she said. "What's wrong with my eyes?"

"What?" Kan asked.

"Dead men don't move," Jordin said indistinctly.

Everyone's gaze went to the attacker as he moaned and twitched feebly.

Rez raised his blaster rifle and pointed it at the man's head.

"What are you doing?" Jordin asked, her eyes widening as she realized what the clone's intention was. "I say, it's not very noble to kill an unarmed man like that. I tried to explain this to Kan, but like most boys his intelligence level is frightfully low –––"

"Put down the blaster, brother," Adriaan said, stepping forward. "This guy's not going anywhere."

Rez reluctantly lowered his weapon and returned it to its holster, looking not a little surprised at her referral to him as a brother. Well, that's what the members of Rainbow Platoon were to her; not slave soldiers without free will, not men born to die, not boys totally subservient to her will, but brothers, whom she owed just as much love and guidance as she did to her own Padawans.

Adriaan crouched down by the man, who sensed that she was near and writhed on the ground in a futile attempt to get away. Adriaan put a hand firmly on his shoulder, stopping him. Her left hand gently touched the helmet on the man's face and slowly eased it off, despite his struggling.

The shock of seeing a familiar face kept her silent. She took a good long look at him, absorbing the blow that had cut into her heart. This man, she had known this man, as a child…

His eyes were as blank as a new sheet of flimsi. The armor didn't have a single dent in it, but the man inside it had been broken…literally. Red bubbles began to escape from his mouth as he coughed. Blood began to seep out of the armor and pool on the ground around him. Adriaan, now covered in the man's blood, hardly seemed to notice as she leaned forward and looked intently into his face.

"Do you know who I am?" she asked. His face remained opaque, as white and empty as death. He had not long to live.

She placed a cool hand on his forehead, willing some of the Force in her to pass into his body. She was not an expert in the gift of Jedi healing, but like all of her kind, she had learned the skill. Her Force healing would not save him ––– she knew that ––– but maybe it would be enough so that he would speak, and remember. Remember her, whom he seemed to have forgotten.

_No, not forgotten, _she thought to herself, _look at his eyes ––– he's been brainwashed._

"Do you know who I am?" she repeated. A strange light had come back into his eyes, and his skin colored a little as he lifted his hand to touch her face.

"Yes…Ree…must tell you…" His voice faltered.

"I have a medpack. Let me get it." Adriaan reached around to grab the item from her backpack, but something in his gaze made her halt.

"I ––– MUST ––– tell ––– you…" It took him great effort to pronounce each word.

"What is it?" Adriaan asked. "Who did this to you? Where did you get the armor?" She touched the cold, hard material and suppressed a shudder.

He nodded. "Haak, he…" Crimson foam dotted his mouth, and a burbling noise sounded in his throat. His lungs expanded slowly, and he opened his mouth again, only to have a fountain of blood spurt out and coat Adriaan's hands. Behind her, someone let out a strangled cry.

Adriaan, who was not squeamish, leaned in closer as the boy ––– for it was a boy, and, indeed, had once been her friend ––– spoke into her ear.

"…Sorry," he whispered.

"I don't understand," Adriaan said. "You must explain this to me. Is Haak alive? If he is, what did he do to you? Jan!"

But it was too late. Jan, the boy she had once trusted her life with, and had now sought to murder her own Padawan, was dead.

And all his secrets died with him.


	13. I Know You

**_Su'cuy! _Enjoy reading Chapter 13! If you particularly liked/disliked this chapter, or saw any plot/technical/continuity errors, your reviews are most welcome. I am looking forward to hearing your thoughts!**

**Disclaimer: I was not the genius who created _Star Wars, _though there are characters, creatures, and planets in the series which I have made up.**

**Those who follow NCAA basketball might notice that one of the gravball teams mentioned in here are based off a real NCAA team. (DuracreteHeels, bet you can't guess which team that is...okay, I'll give you a hint. They won the Championship last year.) **

**Another note: according to Wookieepedia, laserball isn't really a sport. It's just a ball designed for kids to play with. Originally, I had thought that laserball was supposed to sort of be like football. So I think I'm going to go through and change laserball to Nega-ball (which seems to be similar to football. It's described as a sport where there's a lot of passing and running around.)**

**Okay, on with the story.**

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Chapter 13

Adriaan barely noticed when the two groups arrived back at the campsite. Her thoughts were muddled; her brain was whirling. She hadn't felt this tense since the time she had found the knife that had belonged to Haak. She remembered her terror as she had turned the gruesome weapon over in her hand, staring as the blood-red design on the hilt ––– identical to the black, sinuous tattoo on her wrist ––– glared up at her. The knife had been Klamin's, and upon cross-examination, Adriaan had realized with relief that the weapon had been given to him as a gift from someone who had gotten it from Jawas. The knife had been taken a dead body…presumably Haak's.

Haak. The name felt like a swear word on her lips and left a bitterness on her tongue. She had gotten rid of him ages ago…actually, it was two years ago, but it felt like more than that. Her Padawans had no doubt heard of him from her or Klamin, but to them, Haak was only a name, a shadow of a thought. Little more than a nightmare, quickly dissipating in the brightness of dawn.

But to Adriaan, Haak was very much to be feared.

She hadn't really thought of him much in the past two years. It was not her favorite subject to meditate on. If her thoughts happened to stumble upon him, she would simply think of something else…if she could. Unfortunately, not thinking of Haak meant erasing most of her childhood memories. If she eliminated him from her mind, denying his existence, that meant leaving a huge gap in her history. It was hard to do that.

Why was it so important for her to forget about him? Well, Kan no doubt went the ritual of cleansing his mind of the memory of Jango Fett every day, because Fett had been the one to kill Kan's first Master. You couldn't really feel very friendly with the guy that had killed your role model. Not that Adriaan had been fond of her Master ––– they had hated each other's guts, to put it lightly ––– but he had been the closest thing to a father Adriaan would ever have. He had been her shield, bearing the brunt of every battle, of every challenge she had had to face as a Padawan. Personally, they had disliked each other, but not every Master/Padawan team was supposed to be a perfect match. All that mattered was that the Master supported the Apprentice until the latter was able to stand on his own two feet as a Jedi Knight. By killing Adriaan's Master, Haak had knocked down the wall she had been leaning on since she had been six years old. No wonder she couldn't stand the memory of him.

There were deeper meanings for her hatred, but those were too painful to think about. Betrayal. Torture. Murder. Those were a few reasons. She wondered how much her Apprentices knew about it; probably not much, because if she couldn't bear to think of him, what were the chances of her saying his name out loud? Not very high. But the Padawans had an uncanny way of figuring out things.

She should probably tell them something about Haak. She shouldn't be so secretive. After all, if he had been responsible for…for Jan's fall to the dark side, that meant he was still a threat to the galaxy. It meant that she obviously didn't finish the job she began two years ago; it meant that she hadn't killed him.

Unfortunately, people that were sith or enslaved to the dark side were freaky good at playing dead. Heck, they had done it for a thousand years before the Jedi Council finally discovered the trick. So it was entirely possible that the sith cultist, Haak, had inherited the unnatural sith ability to avoid death.

She hated this awakening of fear that froze the blood in her veins. She was scared that Haak was alive and had been behind the attack, she was frustrated at Jan for dying so quickly, she was annoyed that Jordin had been brainless enough to expose her ears to a deafening explosion, she was upset that Kan wasn't connected enough to her to call for her through the Force for help, she was mad at Grievous for hiding in such a terrible place, she was angry at the Separatists for picking a fight with the Republic, she was horrified that the Jedi allowed the Republic to use clone troopers as their own customized, mass-produced slave army, she was furious that the Council had sent her Darc, of all people, to help her on this mission…

But most of all, she was angry at her Master. If she hadn't lost him so soon, he might've been here to prevent this mess. She wouldn't be a Jedi struggling between the paths of the Jedi and Sith, and handicapped by fifteen stark raving mad Apprentices; she would still be a Padawan, depending on the guidance of her dependable, good, experienced, calm, adult Master.

But her Master was gone, and she was just a seventeen-year-old girl without a background history, family, or much hope of a future. She was General I-am-Adriaan-ell-Talaan-and-I-am-serious-so-no-nonsense. Definitely General No Nonsense now.

"Master!" Klamin waved at her invitingly to join him at the campfire.

"Ree," she corrected automatically, then frowned, and corrected again. "_General _Ree."

Klamin nodded. "Right. General Ree."

Back before she had had Shadow Squad, she had insisted that everyone address her as "Adriaan" or her nickname, "Ree" After she took command of "Rainbow Platoon" however, she had realized that there was really nothing wrong with a little respect from her subordinates. So she had relented, and now, everyone called her "sir" or "ma'am" just like well-trained soldiers. Occasionally, though, the formalities would slip, but Adriaan had herself to blame for that.

"Quite a disturbing turn of events, General," Klamin began when she had seated herself beside him. He had taken on the form of a Teevan, a being with smooth, silver skin, and with limbs that were amazingly flexible. His slanted, gunmetal colored eyes glanced at her as he spoke. "A big report for the Council, hmm?"

He was trying to open her up, make her talk. Typical of Klamin; she had always thought he was too inquisitive for his own good.

_And he's always the one bugging me about Ra'hal. I have no idea why he is so curious about her, but it worries me. _

"What _I _do not understand," Kay Lee piped up, appearing behind them and swinging her strong, lean legs over a rock, using it as a seat, "is how the heck Adriaan made those…those…_things_ jump down into that hole."

"Simple," Adriaan mumbled, staring at the fire with a bleak expression. "I harnessed their minds with the Force. Even though weapons are useless against them, they were amazingly susceptible to Force mind tricks."

"Great, I'll file that information away in my databanks next time I get attacked by one," Klamin said, tapping his head.

"They are no joke," Adriaan said. "There are many things in the world that can easily kill a Jedi…but I have never in my entire life seen a creature that was completely impervious to a lightsaber blade."

"Well, at least they're in an out-of-the-way location," Klamin remarked. "It's not like this is a vacationing spot for Jedi." He kicked the ground and winced.

"But this is a vacationing spot for Grievous," Kay Lee pointed out. "If he finds these creatures and figures out what they can do…" Her voice trailed off ominously.

"Ah. Good point."

"Points are sharp; sharp things can kill, therefore sharp is a form of WICKEDNESS," a much-dreaded voice said. "And therefore, it is impossible for something sharp to be GOOD, or for something GOOD to be a point. But, of course, you UNWICKEDS cannot understand my unsophisticatedly WICKED way of speaking, so you are not WICKEDLY listening."

"I thought listening was GOOD," Kay Lee scoffed.

Aedan leaned forward so that his face was nearly in the fire. His teeth gleamed wickedly. "Only when you listen to GOOD advice."

"Why do you always make it your business to distract us from important matters?" Kay asked. She turned to the others. "Haven't you noticed how whenever we launch into a deep discussion, his greasy head pops out of nowhere so that his dirty mouth can talk smack at us?"

"I have no idea what you are doing with your mouth," Jordin said, looking up at Kay from the ground, where Vyto was administering to her wounds. She seemed to be doing a little better now with articulation, though she still looked like she was on the verge of unconsciousness. It was almost as if all her bodily functions, except the ability to speak, had been turned off. "It appears that you are trying to eat something very chewy…or else you have the nasty habit of grinding your teeth. But whatever you are doing, I feel that it is only common courtesy that I inform you that it does not make you look attractive."

Kan coughed awkwardly as Kay Lee fumed and flung a string of Huttese insults at the deaf redhead. Jordin simply shrugged her shoulders and put on a martyred expression as she laid down again and allowed Vyto to finish cleaning the blood off her face.

"How are you feeling, kid? That hurt?" the clone asked when Jordin winced.

"I'm not reeling; I'm not dizzy at all," she said. "And I most certainly do _not _burp. It is unbecoming for a young woman like me to belch. That's what my Master told me."

"_Adriaan _told you that?" Darc asked in amazement. "And to think I thought her to be an uncivilized, kriffing Hutt spawn…"

Adriaan shot him a look that warned him to discontinue.

"Master Yil had such a profound sense of dignity," Jordin murmured. The painkiller she had been given was beginning to take effect. "She always told me…never to…belch…or ya-a-a-a-w-w-w-w-n-n-n-n…"

She yawned deeply and in the same moment fell asleep.

"How is she?" Adriaan asked the medic in a low voice.

Vyto looked at her, his warm brown eyes concerned. "Bad enough, sir," he admitted. "She has a little hole in each eardrum, but that injury isn't serious. It'll heal pretty quickly, especially since I treated it with bacta. However, she broke a few ribs, ma'am, and she has some severe second-degree burns. I'm fairly certain she has a concussion; that's the one injury I'm really worried about."

Well. That would explain Jordin's uncharacteristic lack of energy and inability to retain consciousness.

"For a kid with head trauma, she seems pretty alert," Klamin said.

"Jordin may be a big mouth, but she is a tough kid," Kan said.

"The problem is, I do not have the equipment to administer to all her needs," Vyto said. "I administered bacta spray to the burns and her ears, but she requires a shunt to drain cranial fluid, and complete bacta submersion for a couple of days, at least. She must get medical attention within two days, or she'll be in serious trouble."

"By two days, we would have found the Separatist base," Kay Lee said. "If we can take it out in the same day…"

"We don't know for sure if we'll find it within that time frame, ma'am," Wolf pointed out.

"Anyway, it's probably going to take more than a day to infiltrate the station," Ember added.

"And we can't put Jordin's life in jeopardy like that," Kan said. "This is a concussion we're talking about. I know she seems okay right now, but if intracranial pressure continues to increase…well, it'll make a big mess. No; we've got to find a way to get her off-planet by tonight."

"But Kan, once she makes it off-planet, she's going to have to go through the nebula," Darc said. "You were the one who said she can't fly. Even if we get the pod fixed, she's just going to die out there."

"Well, someone will have to go with her, then," Storm said.

"How about Comet? He's a good pilot," Wolf suggested.

"Comet's in Heatrian's group," Klamin pointed out. "And we can't contact him because we're on comm silence."

"I'll be her escort," Kay Lee said. "I'm a great pilot."

'I'm sure you are," Darc said, slinging an arm over her shoulder. She immediately shoved him off.

"Kay Lee, you are a worthy pilot, but I need you to stick around with me so that when it comes time to infiltrate the station, you'll be available to take charge of the Padawans when I fight Grievous," Adriaan said. "We'll have to spare someone else."

"Hold on a minute, since when have we decided that _you _were going to fight the droid general?" Kay Lee demanded.

"'_We' _have not decided anything," Adriaan said sternly. "_I _have made the decision, _Padawan _Lee."

"Well, it's a pretty lousy one, if you ask me. Let me or Klamin take Grievous; I'll bet he'll make great target practice. And if you want to make the fight more challenging for us, why don't you throw in a few Wicked Club members to be on our team, too?"

"This isn't a joke," Adriaan said. "Have you seen the obituaries? Grievous isn't just some lucky droid with the highest-grade programming so that he can easily prey on naïve little Padawans; he's killed Jedi Knights as well. He's been undefeated in combat."

"We'll worry about General Undefeated when the time comes," Kan said, sounding a little annoyed. "Right now we need to focus on what to do with Jordin."

They all looked at the General.

They needed her to come up with a plan, Adriaan realized. But the confusion in her mind had not lessened throughout the conversation…no, she felt more disturbed than ever.

_It's this planet, _she thought, _it reeks of the dark side. It reeks of Haak._

She had always been abnormally sensitive to the dark side, but she had thought she had successfully severed all her connections to it long ago. Being exposed to it again was inevitable, but it wasn't supposed to feel so overpowering and…tempting.

"I need to meditate on this," she muttered, standing up abruptly. "I'll be in my tent if I'm needed." She looked at Klamin. "You and Rez can go work on the escape pod."

She stumbled ungracefully to the shelter, which was beginning to look a little lopsided. She sat down in the middle of the tent, closing the flaps securely behind her. Then she carefully unslung her survival pack from around her back and began rummaging through it. She wasn't sure, but she sort of remembered throwing in a pad of flimsi into her bag before she had left the _Republic's Hope. _Ah. There it is. It even had a pen attached.

She tapped the tip of the writing utensil on the piece of paper, contemplating. Then she quickly wrote a note in Mandoshag. Not many people were familiar with this new language, which was a baffling compilation of Huttese, Basic, and Mando'a dialects, so she was sure that if the letter was intercepted, there was a good chance that it would never be deciphered by a Separatist agent. Mandoshag was the official language of Goba Shag, which was a very pro-Jedi, Republic planet. If none of the Jedi knew the language, they could always run it through the Jedi archives to get a translation.

A safer way to send the message would have been in a datachip, but a piece of flimsi would be unexpected by the enemy, and wouldn't be picked up by scanners if Jordin got captured.

The words that were muddled in her brain became clear on the blank page, so her hand moved quickly across the flimsi, her penmanship tiny, uniform, and businesslike.

H'chuolarom Jedise tsadon Coruscanta, fro Alora Lightraciya, Aureti Separa tra –_ Greetings, Jedi Council on Coruscant, from General ell Talaan, Invader of Separatist Space._

_ I write to you only in the gravest and most desperate of circumstances. Having taken a small Republican dropship from the frigate, I have successfully located the planet where GG's hideout is situated. However, we have run into some trouble which my Padawan messenger here will probably be most willing to elaborate. _

_ I have sent Jordin back through the perils of the nebula only because I had to. She was severely injured in a fight with a Force-user, so she has been CASEVACed to the frigate for recovery. I have given her instructions to take the _Loyalty _to Triple Zero, where the Jedi healers could aid in repairing her injuries faster. The main objective of this report is not to call upon you for help, for I have enough clones and Padawans left with me to deal with Grievous. The purpose of this note is to warn you of the disturbing events that have transpired here. For though I have hope of prevailing against enemy forces, the dark side on this world rests like a heavy cloud upon my heart, shaking what self-confidence I still possess. So, in case I do not return to relay this news to HQ, I have taken the risk of having this report intercepted by the CIS._

_ Upon our arrival to this hostile world, I held a conference with the soldiers and Apprentices. We all agreed that it would be best if we split up and traveled in different directions across the planet. That was my second mistake; the first was when I overestimated the endurance of our cruiser and was forced to crash-land._

_ Apprentices Enik and Skraps traveled across the western side of the planet alone. All of us were about two hours out when I heard my Padawan's call through the Force. Fearing the worst, I turned around and headed in the direction where Jordin and Kan had gone. On my way, I encountered some of the creatures that inhabited this world. Besides their obvious carnivorous characteristics, I sensed nothing truly significant about them until my lightsaber came in physical contact with the beasts. To my horror, the weapon that has never failed me betrayed me then, sputtering out and dying, as if the power cell had died out. Fortunately, I found a different means of disposing of these creatures, so I arrived in time to help my Apprentices._

_ I discovered they were being assaulted by a strange figure fully clothed in dark armor. According to Apprentice Enik, the armor shares the same properties as the native creatures, for as soon as Kan's lightsaber touched the assassin, the blade burned out. I am sending the helmet to the Temple for analysis, along with a sample of the black scales from the native creatures. It is vitally important that these items are assessed and their weaknesses found, for I fear the Separatists may have knowledge of these materials, and find a way to use them to defeat Jedi. Such a thing should not happen. _

_ The attacker is dead; I killed him, having no other choice. He has injured Apprentice Skraps, but that is all the damage he was able to do. If he was a Separatist agent, he has not transmitted our presence to the CIS base, for I found no communications system on him. Besides, there were no markings or items on him to indicate where his allegiances lay. The only thing he carried was a lightsaber. I do not know who he was working for, but as I removed his helmet, I was appalled to discover the identity of the man._

_ It was a human boy. A former Apprentice whom you know well, but who had disappeared a few years ago. The reports had said he had perished in a vehicle collision._

_ Apparently, Apprentice Jan Y'dosot did not die; he lived, and somehow fell to the dark side. My horrifying hypothesis is that the 'accident' was a coverup for a kidnapping conducted by the Disciples of Ragnos, for these sith-worshippers are well-known to do that to Jedi Padawans. They no doubt abducted him only to make him a slave to their unworthy cause._

_ I no longer am certain that Haak is dead. I am no longer certain of anything._

She finished the report and rolled the piece of flimsi into as tight of a cylinder as she could. She would attach it to the inside of Jordin's utility belt. She wondered why she had written those last two sentences; it made the report seem informal, somehow. Besides, it sent the wrong kind of message to the Jedi Council. It conveyed that she was nervous, and had an overhanging sense of death. Yes, she definitely was feeling that right now, but she wasn't going to worry the Council about it. They were paranoid enough as it is, and her fear was no doubt the result of their paranoia just rubbing off onto her. Typical.

She contemplated scratching out the last paragraph, but the Council would be sure to notice. A big black mark on the flimsi would make it look like a sloppy report. She definitely didn't want that.

So she sealed the flimsi cylinder, sat down on the bare floor, and went into Jedi meditation.

After two minutes, she shot up to her feet and stepped out of the tent. Of course, she had been a complete idiot before. She had been too bold, too willing to risk the consequences of a direct approach. Her Master had always warned her about that; he had been right, too. He had drilled into her thousands of times the importance of being calculating and never risking more than she had to. If she had paid more attention to his lesson, maybe the ship wouldn't have been compromised, and maybe Jordin wouldn't have been hurt, and maybe Jan wouldn't have died…

"You all right, General?" Wolf asked, putting down the DC-15 he had been polishing and saluting smartly. He looked at her for a moment, concerned, and then quickly withdrew a few ration cubes from his pocket and tossed them to her, along with a small canteen of water.

Adriaan smiled gratefully at the boy as she caught the puny but well-meant gifts. Good old Wolf. He could be so stern and methodical ––– almost ruthless ––– in his dealings with non-clones, but he had always had a soft spot for his Jedi General. He would never own up to it, but she still knew who was responsible when she came into her quarters to find her flight bag packed, or the tedious and greatly disliked task of reporting to the Jedi Council already completed. She also knew who coaxed the chef droids in the mess to cook an unscheduled dinner for her when she missed regular mealtimes. Adriaan wondered if he did these little things for her out of adoration or just because he liked her. She hoped it was the latter; like any self-respecting Jedi, hero-worship did not appeal to her.

"What's up, General?" Ember said as she made her way toward the group, who had gathered around an extracted escape pod, watching Klamin and Shakir finishing up repairs. Surprisingly, the pod was in excellent shape.

"Know what to do now, thanks, brother." Another look of surprise at her form of address. _Well, Ember, you _are_ like a brother to me. I'm too old to call you 'son' or 'kid' even though you're only about eight years old, chronologically speaking. Blast, how the heck do you guys keep from going insane when you grow at twice the rate of normal human beings? You're eight years old, but your body belongs to a teenager, for star's sake. How do you cope with such an accelerated life? _"Sitrep on the pod?"

"SWR at 2100," Rez said, sliding out from underneath the pod to grin at her through a thick coat of black grease.

Adriaan looked at her chrono. It read 1800; three hours.

"Can the military slang, kid," Darc said, scratching his head. "I only speak Basic slang."

"He said that the pod would have Space Worthiness Release in four hours time, sir," Vyto explained, ever the compliant clone trooper.

"Thanks, um…Ammo," Darc hazarded.

Adriaan gave him a murderous look.

"So, what's the plan with the chatty redhead?" Darc asked, nervously attempting to direct the subject away from himself.

"I have an idea that will guarantee Jordin's safety," Adriaan said, with a glance at Kan's worried face. "One person will be spared to accompany her to the frigate, preferably someone with emergency medical training, in case Jordin's concussion gets out of hand before she reaches the frigate."

Kan's face fell at this news. He had been hoping to be the one to go with his friend, Adriaan realized, but there wasn't much she could do about it.

"That would be me, ma'am," Vyto said. "But I warn you, I'm less than great at flying."

"Vyto, while I appreciate your willingness to except such a dangerous task, I need you to stay here in case there is another medical situation that I need you to cover," Adriaan said. "Who else volunteers to go with Apprentice Skraps?"

Rez slid out from underneath the pod and saluted. "I can do it, ma'am. I have emergency medical training, like all my brothers, and on top of that, I'm an awesome pilot."

"Good man, but aren't you afraid to fly an escape pod through an atmospheric storm?"

"Yes, but I thought you said you had a plan that was guaranteed to make sure that I don't miss the next meal on the _Republic's Hope._"

"Of course, I should've known that you were only thinking of your stomach when you volunteered. But yes, I do have a plan." She paused. "You realize that everyone has their own special skill, correct? Some are good at flying, like Sullustans, and some have the gift of diplomacy, like some politicians. Mandalorians are warriors-for-hire, which makes them come in handy when people with credits to spare go to war. Shapeshifters make perfect spies because they can deceive the eye, and some ––– like Force-adepts, or beings who are very, very clever ––– know how to manipulate minds. Clones and Jedi are no exception."

"I agree with you," Klamin said. "But I have no idea where you are going with this."

"I am saying that my gift will ensure Jordin's safety."

"If you mean ensuring her safety by putting her out of her misery, I suppose that shooting lasers at her with your cat-eyes would be just the thing," Darc put in cheekily.

Kay Lee, being the closest, had the honor of kneeing him between the legs. Darc let out a yelp of pain and fell groveling at her feet.

"Thank you," Adriaan said to the assistant trainer. "As I was saying, my Master knew of my talent, and did her best to hone my raw skills to a defined edge. I am not named Lightning in the Storm for nothing. Many of you have no doubt felt lethargic and drowsy when a storm is brewing, but for me, it has an adverse effect. I am strongest in dangerous weather."

Overhead, thunder rumbled. Adriaan grinned and gestured at the sky. "We are in a storm, are we not? One of the most thrilling and hazardous of atmospheric catastrophes; a nebula."

"What are you planning to do?" Wolf asked.

"I can control the intensity of the storm for a brief amount of time."

"Control a nebula?" Darc yelped incredulously. "Impossible!"

"Is your definition of 'brief' long enough for me to get Jordin to the frigate?" Rez asked.

Adriaan turned to him and gripped him by the forearms. "I promise you; I will bend the nebula to my will; it will obey me, and not harm you. I swear on the lightsaber I built and have wielded since I was a child."

Darc whistled under his breath. "That's pretty serious."

"That's because it _is _serious," Adriaan said, releasing Rez and turning to face her ex-friend. "And if you haven't realized that yet, I'm sure Kay Lee would be more than willing to give you a reality check."

"Uh, no, that won't be necessary, ma'am," the former Padawan said, with a nervous glance at the strong, strawberry-blond Apprentice.

"Master, since there's a definite release on the pod, I suggest that one team remains here until Jordin and whoever goes with her departs," Kay Lee said, bringing up another important matter. "The other teams sort of need to get back to work. I know the Separatists can be absurdly stupid sometimes, but their overloaded sensors are going to detect us sooner or later."

"I agree, but it's awfully late to head out again," Adriaan warned.

"Aw, General, don't worry about us," Ember said. "We've got night-vision goggles."

"In that case, since Kan's teammate is being CASEVACed, I suggest that we re-split the teams so that there's an even amount of people in each group," Adriaan said. "All hands on the grinder, attention for AAR!"

She sighed as everyone except the clone troopers didn't move. _Man, I've got to teach them some military terminology sometime. I can't imagine any of them commanding a legion without even knowing basic Grand Army acronyms. They'd look like Hutts in twi'lek dancer costumes. _"In other words, gather around for the After-Action Review! Aedan! Good grief, where is that kid?" She looked around. "Is this great news impossible? Has Aedan finally deserted?"

"Who is this Aedan you are referring to?" a voice growled from behind.

Adriaan rolled her eyes. "Unfortunately, it's you, Apprentice Kenobi."

"How many times must I tell you? I am not Aedan Kenobi, even though that is my legal name. My name is WICKED!"

"What exactly makes you WICKED, anyway?" Klamin asked.

"Well, for WICKED starters, I am a professional artist," Aedan said proudly.

Adriaan did not know this. "Oh, really? I suppose if you were a professional _modern _artist, that would be plausible. All you have to do to be a modern artist is throw paint on some cheap old rag that used to clean a public refresher and _bang! _You're a luminary with a whole wing in an art museum dedicated to your great 'works'"

"You idiot! I'm not _that _kind of GOOD artist!" Aedan scoffed.

"Then what kind of artist are you?"

"A conartist," he stated matter-of-factly.

Everyone digested this in silence.

"Point taken," Darc said with a dramatic sigh.

Adriaan made a mental note to sign Aedan up for some egotistical-discouragement training with Yoda once they completed this assignment. "All right, then, Con Man, if you're all that, why don't you do some reconnaissance for me? First, I need you to shapeshift into a Lightningite, since that species can travel across land at hundreds of klicks per second. What I need you to do is send a message to each Jedi/clone squad, since we can't use our comlinks. Got all that so far? Excellent. After you do that, why don't you just find the CIS hideout, walk up to their front door, ring the doorbell, and ask politely if Grievous will allow you to prove your conning expertise by breaking into his base?"

"Okay!" Aedan answered enthusiastically. Either he hadn't caught the sarcasm in her tone, or he was just being sarcastic right back at her.

"Go work on it!" Adriaan roared in her best drill-instructor voice.

Aedan ambled off, singing the Utapauan Duracreteheels theme song under his breath.

"DuracreteHeels? What happened to the Aquahawks, ma'am?" Rez asked when Aedan was safely out of earshot.

"Oh, the Naboo Aquahawks are a laserball team," Kay Lee explained. "The DuracreteHeels are part of the GGA ––– Galactic Gravball Association. Laserball season ended last month, and the gravball season officially started this morning."

"Let me guess; Aedan likes the DuracreteHeels because they've won the most Galactic bowls?" Klamin said.

"Not Galactic Bowls; that's a Nega-ball thing. The DuracreteHeels hold the record for winning the most Triple G's, or the Galactic Gravball Games, which are hosted every year on Triple Zero…sorry, that's just Grand Army slang for Coruscant. Coincidentally, they've won three hundred and thirty-three Triple G's in history, and the number on the jersey of the Duracrete's star player is a number three."

"No wonder that is Aedan's favorite number," Kan muttered.

"Speaking of which, we have less than three hours left to redivide the teams and head out again," Klamin said. "So, what's the plan, General?"

"Kan, Vyto, Aedan and I will stay here until the escape pod is out of the storm," Adriaan said, directing her focus back to the present. "Ember, Storm, Andora, and Darc will go with Kay Lee back up north. Go as fast and as carefully as you can; stop for some sleep when it gets dark, but have each person take turns keeping watch during the night. Those creatures might attack at any time. If you run into them again, I'm going to count on Kay and Andora to lure them away with a mind-trick. Think you can handle that, Commander Lee?"

"G2G, CO," Kay said, clearly proud of her knowledge of military terminology.

"You can be contigent on us, ma'am," Andora said primly.

"What about me?" Klamin complained.

"Do what I told Aedan to do," Adriaan said. "Morph into a Lightningite or some other fast creature and catch up with the other groups. Let them know what's happened, and see if they've found the base yet. If one of the groups has already found it, inform the other squads and get back here to report to me as fast as you can."

"And then can I walk up and ring Grievous' doorbell and ask him if I can infiltrate his station?" Klamin asked.

"No. All of you are under strict orders not to engage him without my assistance."

"Poodoo." Klamin morphed into an exact copy of a clone trooper. "See you in fifteen minutes, sir."

His salute was uncannily identical to a cloned soldier, too. He turned and immediately shapeshifted into a Lightningite. A flash of blue light, and he was merely a whitish speck in the distance. Adriaan sighed and turned to view the departure of Kay Lee's detachment. The Padawan was furiously berating Darc as he slowly and painstakingly began to repack his bag. Adriaan stepped forward and placed a hand on Kay's shoulder.

"Kay Lee…"

"The freakin' _shag _is insisting on reorganizing his survival pack," Kay hissed in white-hot fury. "He says it was too heavy last time, and that you overstuffed it on purpose so he would get tired faster than the rest of you and pass out."

"Your insults fall on my ears like loving caresses, my darling redhead," Darc said soothingly, carelessly throwing out a spray-bottle of bacta that had been used to treat Jordin's ears. The container was still three-quarters full, and could still be used. While Kay Lee administered a much-deserved kick into Chun-be's behind, Adriaan salvaged the bottle and put it into her own pack, which already weighed a hefty twenty kilos.

"Why can't you take him?" Kay Lee asked when Adriaan returned. "Aren't you afraid of what's going to happen?"

"Are you referring to the fact that he's going to be the death of you?"

"No, that _I'm _going to be the one to slit his throat."

"I really don't care much whether he lives or dies, actually."

"Okay, look at it this way: _Breaking HoloNet news Report! Jedi Padawan responsible for death of valued citizen; authorities suspect foul play. All Republic forces are on high alert; authorities are cautioning to keep an eye out for a lunatic redhead with a lightsaber attempting to take more innocent lives. _Do I need to draw a picture?"

"I see your point," Adriaan sighed. "But the fact of the matter is, I just can't take him anymore."

"Well, since you've admitted having a weakness for once, I accept that as a valid apology, and will do my part by keeping my hands off his scrawny, unmuscular neck," Kay Lee said. She bowed slightly and turned, her long hair whipping around her head as she turned on her heel and began shouting orders at the departing troopers.

"Darc! Just shovel the junk in and move out! I don't care how bad the food tastes! It won't kill you, like I will, if you don't move it. Come on, put your tush muscles into it, civvie! Ember, Shakir, Storm, Andora, look alive!"

"Force be with you, Commander Lee!" Adriaan called.

"May the Force be with _you, _rather," came the cocky reply. "You're going to need it big time since you're going to be having to babysit Aedan for a while. At least _I've _got the one that's potty-trained."

"Hey! I'm not potty-trained!" Darc shouted without thinking. "Wait, what…"

"I do _not _wear GOOD diapers!" Aedan shouted, appearing out of nowhere when Kay Lee's squad was out of sight.

Adriaan turned to him, eyebrows raised. "Oh, hello, uh…Wicked one."

"That's right, I am WICKED," Aedan said, clearly pleased at the way she had addressed him. "I perfected that WICKED shapeshifting job you wanted me to do," he added as he danced in a circle around her.

"Oh, really?" Adriaan said, not believing him. "Let me see."

"Okay."

Adriaan, watched, shocked, as Aedan shot up four feet, and turned from a dirty, pale-skinned human boy into a luminous, bluish-white Lightningite.

"What the…" Adriaan didn't know what that thing was, but she was sure that it was not Aedan. She yelled a warning to the others as she ran forward and kicked the creature in the stomach. She slammed into it and pummeled it into the ground, where it crumpled and seemed to melt into a glowing pool. The liquid turned gray and solidified into a familiar Shi'Odo form just as Wolf came running up.

"Klamin." Adriaan stood up and shook the dirt from her cloak, composing herself quickly. _What is wrong with me? _She thought. She should have sensed immediately that it was Klamin, and she shouldn't have reacted so violently. "Not funny."

"I was thinking the same thing myself when you kicked me," he moaned, rolling over onto his stomach. "Ow. That's definitely going to leave a mark."

"False alarm, ma'am?" Wolf lowered the blaster pistols he had been training at the shapeshifter's head.

"I thought I dispatched you two minutes ago to relay a message to the other groups," Adriaan told Klamin angrily. "Is this how you obey your CO?"

"I WICKEDLY made him do it," Aedan said, smirking as he strutted out of the shelter.

"Oh, I'm sure," Adriaan muttered. She smacked the Shi'Odo on the back, propelling him forward. "Giddup, changeling, or I'll gut you like a Rokarian dirt-fish!"

Klamin snarled and pretended to paw the ground like a wild beast eager for the hunt. Suddenly he took on his previous form and rushed past Adriaan, leaving a faint, bluish light behind him.

"Well, there he goes again," Adriaan said. She turned. "Wolf!"

"Ma'am!"

"Check the perimeter! Keep an eye out for predators, delinquent messengers and prankster Padawans. Just make one round, then you can go get some rest. I'll keep an eye on the camp until the Shi'Odo returns. Am I understood!"

"Yes ma'am!" Wolf saluted, turned on his heel smartly, and marched off.

"Vyto!"

"Ma'am!"

"Sitrep on the patient!"

"In pain, but awake and alert for now."

"R&R until tomorrow morning. Aedan, go keep Jordin entertained until she ships out of here."

"Idiot yes idiot!" Aedan smiled and danced off.

"Rez!"

The clone slid out from underneath the pod. "Yes, General?"

"Relieved of duty until 2100; go eat something and just take it easy for a bit. I'll take over repairs from here."

"Acknowledged, ma'am. Thanks."

Adriaan bent down and slid underneath the pod, which was supported above the ground by two curved pieces of metal taken from the destroyed ship. She rolled over onto her back, fished out the travel case of servotools that she kept in her utility belt, and inspected the inner workings of the vessel with a critical eye. The massive amount of energy from the storm had fried many of the circuits, but Rez and Klamin had already managed to repair the worst of the damage. All Adriaan had to do was convert the chemical entry ballistics to power required to launch the lifepod. Then she had to rewire the explosive-induced rockets so that they would have temporary sublight capability. Not too hard; she admitted that she was no mechanic, but she had learned enough tricks from Skipp and Comet to convert an emergency vessel to a questionable but hopefully space-worthy, ground-launching craft.

Adriaan was about half an hour into the conversion when she felt the odd sensation of being watched. She sensed a slight vibration in the dirt…a footstep? Suddenly realizing that she had relieved every one of duty and that no one was guarding the camp, she slowly put the fusioncutter down and silently turned her head sideways so that she could look out from underneath the pod.

There was nothing. But she definitely felt something. Seeing no harm in making a quick round to reassure herself, she inched her way out and stood up quietly, ignoring the sharp protests from her cramped muscles. Wait a second. Cramped muscles? It couldn't have possibly been just thirty minutes…Adriaan checked her chrono and groaned. She obviously had no concept of the passing of time ––– it was after 1900.

_Klamin should've been back by now. _

Wolf had checked in from the perimeter about forty-five minutes ago, with nothing to report. Now the camp was eerily silent, except for Jordin's faint snoring. She had fallen asleep long before; Adriaan had heard Aedan retire to his own tent, probably just to dig through the rations. Yet she couldn't even hear the sound of Aedan's usually loud chewing, but that was probably because of the fierce wind that was now blowing away from her, toward the tents. It was no doubt carrying all the sound away.

Another faint crunch of dirt beneath a booted foot. There was no mistaking it this time. Pinpointing the location of the noise, she whirled about, gathering the Force around her, searching for the intruder's presence within it.

The waves of the dark side that washed over her were staggering and nauseatingly powerful. Was it another wild animal attack? Adriaan listened hard. No; there was a definite presence of hatred and a desire to inflict pain. The creatures that had assaulted them before had been dangerous, yes, but they had not attacked out of spite. The unknown presence was a sentient being that, Adriaan suspected, had Separatist loyalties, or a personal grudge against her. Whatever the intruder was, he wasn't a good guy.

She decided to throw out a challenge to flush the enemy out of hiding. "I sense your presence. Show yourself!"

All she heard was the piercing moan of the wind pounding in her eardrums.

"You know, you are breathing so loud I could just slot you right now," Adriaan continued, even though she couldn't really hear any breathing, and didn't even have a firearm to shoot with anyway. "Come on, show me your bantha-ugly face, if you have one. What are you, anyway? A sith-wanna-be? A Padawan reject? A weak Force-user so fed up with the AgriCorps that you've resorted to taking bounties on Jedi? 'Cause if you're a bounty hunter, I can assure you that whatever bounty your boss has on me, it's not worth the fight. Believe me, punk, I'm not the kind of person you want to mess with."

Silence.

What type of dark side adept was this? He ––– or she ––– should have come out at once upon hearing such smack talk. Anyone with a relation to the dark side had an extra-gigantic ego to feed. Either Adriaan's insults were too lame to make a dent, or there was no one there.

_I know you…_

"Kriff," Adriaan said, exasperated. She had a nagging suspicion that she knew this person, but she couldn't figure out who it was yet. Could it possibly be…NO. Don't even think about it. "Come on, you big coward, you _shag sleemo_, come out and fight. I know you want to. I know you."

"Do you?" The voice she didn't recognize, but it was one unmistakably filled with menace and…amusement? Amusement at her confusion? She turned toward the sound, hand deceivingly casual as she fingered her lightsaber hilt.

She faced a thing nearly two and a half meters tall, anonymously clothed in matte black rainment that blended in so well with the gloomy twilight hours on Umbria that she couldn't tell whether the clothing was armor or septsilk. A cape as black as the perpetual surrounding night billowed out behind him…or it.

Alarm bells rang off in her head. Why? She was sure she had never seen such a creature before, but why did it suddenly seem like such a familiar face? Something about the way the person stood, the arrogance of his posture, the way he activated his blood-red lightsaber and gestured it toward her with a supercilious flair…

The hilt was a plain ebony color; unadorned, as blank and impersonal as the man in black. But the dull black finish set off the spark. She opened her mouth, showing her teeth in a terrifying grimace as the embers of long pent-up anger flared to life again within her heart.

"YOU."

The word left her lips in a cry as she lunged toward the greatest enemy of her childhood.


	14. Padawan Conspiracy

**Hello, everyone! To clone lovers, here's the point in the series where the clones start to take over the spotlight. You'll get to see things from Wolf's point of view quite a bit, as well as read chapters entirely from Rez's perspective. I apologize if some of the characters don't have much character right now, but I promise you really get to know them better as the series goes on. I mean, I've got ten whole books planned for _Galactic War, _so I have plenty of time to develop all the characters. Also, you must forgive me for the horrendous amount of characters in the story; in retrospect, perhaps less Wicked Club members or clones would have been a good idea, but the only way I can correct this is by recycling the whole story (which would take some work, believe me)or by killing some characters off (gasp).**

**Despite the fact that there are lots of characters, I hope the story is still enjoyable.**

**Disclaimer: I am not the genius who created _Star Wars, _or developed the Mandalorian culture, language, etc. **

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Chapter 14

Wolf didn't know what it was like to sleep deeply. He had always slept lightly, never able to ignore the fact that the enemy could attack at any time, and if he allowed his mind to be totally at rest, he would not be aware of any danger until it hit him. He'd always been terrified of getting slotted in his sleep. It wasn't a pleasant thought, but he was used to unpleasant thoughts because he had lived seven miserable years training on desolate Kamino, in complete power of impersonal alien cloners who didn't ––– _couldn't _––– understand how important it was for humans to mature in a loving, nurturing environment. Kaminoans didn't have human fears, desires, and dreams ––– they thought of emotion as a psychological state driven by illogical and unreasonable beliefs. Such irrational and subjective responses were unacceptable characteristics that needed to be removed from the gene template for efficient, able-bodied soldiers who were denied even a normal human's life span. For clones aged twice as fast as regular humans, in order for the cloners to produce soldiers in only ten years.

The first four and a half or so months of his life had been spent developing not in a mother's womb, but a clear, cold, transparisteel vat, along with millions of other clone fetuses exactly like him. After his "birth" he had spent the next two years with physical and intellectual enhancement on simulated battlefields. When he had turned biologically four years old ––– which was two years old chronologically ––– he had been put on live fire ranges, with real, flesh-and-blood clone brothers shooting with or at him, depending upon which regiment they had belonged to. According to Adriaan, other four-year-olds spent time playing at sunny parks with family, but at four years old, Wolf had been put on a battlefield and exposed to pain and death. General ell Talaan said little kids played with bright, colorful toys that had flashing lights and made obnoxious sounds; as a little kid, Wolf had been hefting a modified DC-15 blaster rifle and shooting back at the people who were only firing at him because it was ordered by their commander.

His first kill hadn't been on the front lines of the clone wars.

For the last year and a half, he had been marching behind the seemingly harmless General ell Talaan, a human girl that had had a weapon shoved into her hands at a young age, too, and forced to grow up early because the rest of the galaxy was destroying itself with war. Wolf had no regrets leaving rainy Kamino, but he couldn't say he liked battles. But as long as he and his platoon got to be together, and as long as General ell Talaan was there to lead them, he could get over the potential hazards.

Wolf was good at his job; he had been doing it since he had been born.

He had a maximum of twenty more years to live, if he was lucky; clones usually lived until they were chronologically twelve years old. Anyway, he would soon die, and only a few people in the universe would know of the sacrifices he had made. He would die without experiencing the things normal citizens took for granted ––– having an everyday, nonhazardous job; falling in love, getting married, having kids, holding his first grandchild, et cetera. He didn't even get leave; his job was around the clock, nonstop. He would never get a break, never relax, until he was dead.

Wolf and his brothers liked General ell Talaan because she seemed to realize what their lives were like, and then she took it a step farther by giving herself the same unfair deal. She never took leave, either, and she ate in the barracks like any soldier, didn't take the best quarters for herself, slept in a standard issue, rock-hard bunk that was the same quality as any clone trooper's bed, and she didn't have any possessions other than her lightsaber and the clothes on her back. Anything else she used was government property. If she came up with a strategy, she made sure everyone was comfortable with it before going on. If the plan failed, then she took full responsibility, even if the plan wasn't her own. When there was a battle, she didn't stand back and observe: she fought in the front lines. She refused to shy away from the dirtiest job, even if it meant crawling through a field that was filled two meters deep with human blood and guts.

And she always made sure the troopers got enough rest before she hit the bunk.

Wolf had never been under anyone else's command, but he had seen other Jedi, and heard stories from other legions. Adriaan was too young for the rank of General, and she was sometimes disturbingly naïve about military tactics, but she had to be the best Jedi General in the Grand Army because she didn't treat the clones like expendable meat-cans; she was both their General and their friend.

He felt devoted to her because she was devoted to him and his brothers. She was the big sister Shadow Squad had never had. Wolf would give his life to save her.

He was glad that he could be conscious of his surroundings and sleep at the same time, otherwise he was certain he would have never heard Adriaan cry out. She wasn't normally a yeller because she liked giving people the silent treatment when she was upset, so when he heard the scream that was so filled with anguish and hatred, it terrified him in a way he had never felt before. This was a noise he had heard before, but never from her.

She was a dangerous girl. Who would want to cause her such rage and pain? Someone beyond Wolf's expertise, that was certain, but that didn't worry him one bit. He was on his feet in a flash, his freshly scrubbed pistols out of their holsters and pointing straight in front of him as he ran in the direction of the cry. Good thing he made it a habit to calibrate his weapons before he went to bed each night.

He adjusted the HUD in his helmet to infrared so that he could pick the combatants up on his scopes. According to the display, there were two humanoids near the lifepod. Of course; Adriaan had been working on the craft when he had checked in from the perimeter. She must've been attacked while finishing the repairs.

Now he heard the sounds of lightsabers clashing together. There were three sabers appearing on the HUD. That meant that the assailant had a Jedi weapon, because Adriaan couldn't wield more than two lightsabers at a time. It also confirmed his earlier doubts that he wouldn't be able to handle the opponent on his own.

But at least he could help.

Wolf didn't want to shout and alert the whole world of his location, so he switched on the internal comlink in his armor that allowed him to hold private communications with his clone brothers.

"Rez?"

His brother's voice, groggy with sleep, went online almost immediately. "For the last time, Wolf, I am _not_ interested in tucking you into your bunk and reading you a bedtime story. And no, I will not sing a lullaby to you, either."

"Very funny." Actually, right now, it wasn't amusing at all. "Listen, there's some technical difficulties going on with the lifepod repairs."

Rez groaned. "I _told _her that redirecting the chemical entry ballistics was going to be too tricky for her…"

"General ell Talaan is not working on the pod. She's fighting an unidentified opponent."

"CIS agent?"

"Does it matter? Haul Vyto and the Jedi out of their bunks and get your rear-ends out here now!"

"Yes, _Sarge_," Rez answered sarcastically before cutting off the communication.

Now Wolf was close enough to see the flash of lightsabers as the two warriors clashed together repeatedly. Neither Adriaan nor the other person uttered a sound, but the fury and hatred between the two was palpable. Wolf had never been exposed to so much anger before, and it was astonishing.

Two red lightsabers, and one blue. Adriaan was holding two. Strange. He had thought she only owned one, but maybe Jedi always carried a spare one, in case the other weapon was lost or damaged during a fight.

He was glad of the night-vision on his HUD, which allowed him to shoot almost as well as he could in daylight. The image on the screen was a little grainy, but if he squinted, Wolf could discern the sable clothing of the attacker against the night sky.

Wolf holstered his pistols and withdrew his disruptor rifle from his pack. He peered into the sights of the gun and waited until the sable-clothed man stepped into the crosshairs. He had to make this quick and accurate; if his aim was off by the merest fraction, he ran the risk of hitting Adriaan instead of the target.

Fortunately, Wolf was a good sniper.

The two combatants had stopped. Adriaan was standing on the ground, breathing hard, one hand outstretched toward the anonymous person, who immediately shot five meters up into the air and hung there, as if suspended by an invisible hand.

"…If you came back to kill me, you should've practiced a lot more," Adriaan was saying. "I defeated you last time. Haven't you learned your lesson yet?"

"You aren't as powerful as you think. You meant to kill me two years ago, and you failed," a man's voice rasped.

"I knocked you down into a pit. I wasn't about to jump in after you to see if the fall was going to kill you."

The man laughed bitterly. "You were weak. You hated me, but deep down inside, you didn't have the guts to see it through the end, did you?"

"I'm talking to a dead man."

"I don't see any holes for you to dump me into, _Padawan._"

"Oh, I am perfectly capable of killing you with my own hands. Thanks for the suggestion, though."

The sound of someone gasping and spluttering filled the silence that followed. With a start, Wolf realized that Adriaan was choking her opponent so that he would slowly suffocate.

"I will…destroy you all!" the man croaked.

"Just curious, Haak ––– a good Jedi's spirit becomes one with the Force when he dies, correct? If that is true, I wonder where _your _soul will end up?"

Haak's laugh was cut off by a strangled cough. "Little girl…I think you should worry…about yourself!"

Wolf couldn't take watching this man die in agony any longer. It was just cruel. He couldn't believe his own General was doing this. She had never tortured someone just for her own self-gratification. He pointed the rifle at Haak and squeezed the trigger.

The shot went through Haak and dissipated on the lifepod's hull.

Wolf swore and threw away the rifle, drawing his blaster pistol instead. He aimed at Haak…

But he was no longer there.

Wolf let out an exclamation of surprise. How was this possible? A man couldn't just disappear into thin air. Adriaan stood motionless, facing the spot where the opponent had been. No doubt she was just as shocked as he was.

But as she turned at his approach, her face was utterly calm and serene, as if nothing unordinary had happened. Her gaze, however, was glazed over, as if she were distracted.

Wolf threw aside formality for a moment and stepped forward to embrace her, but it was an awkward motion for him, so he thought better of it and gingerly placed his gloved hand on her shoulder, instead.

"Are you all right, General?"

She started and gazed at him as if seeing him for the first time. "Jango, what am I going to do? He's after me; I have to escape. You have to help me get out of here."

Wolf did a double-take, then realized that in her confused state of mind, she had mistaken him for Jango Fett, his "father"

"You know this man…Haak? Who is he?" He said, ignoring the mistake.

"_Haar chakaar r'eyaytir. Bic ni skana'din,_" she muttered.

"Ma'am?"

"Eh?" she raised an eyebrow at him. "Come on, _beroya, _don't pretend not to know Mando'a. You were the one who first introduced me to it. I am now as fluent as any _Mando verd _because of you."

"Ma'am, I am not Jango Fett; he is dead," Wolf said gently. "I am Sergeant Wolf, commanding officer of _Kick _force. CT-1993, of Rainbow Platoon, of Starlight Company."

Realization dawned on her face. She slowly sank to the ground and put her head in her hands. Wolf stood by patiently, waiting for her to recover.

"I'm sorry, ma'am," he said after a while.

She looked up, her eyes dry. "Don't be. You were only trying to help."

Another awkward silence. Finally, Wolf ventured cautiously, "Jango Fett, ma'am ––– did he really teach you the language of the Mandalorians?"

She shrugged. "He was involved in an operation to liberate slaves on the planet Goba Shag. I was one of the slaves, and the leader of the revolt, so I worked with him for a time. He taught me all the best Mando insults," she grinned wryly. "He seemed so devoted to his Mandalorian heritage, it inspired me to learn the language when I was preparing for the Jedi trials. I didn't know that it would come in handy in the near future."

"Ma'am?"

She gestured impatiently at him. "You're all clones of Jango. Therefore, you are Mandalorian. You know Mando'a, I know Mando'a. I can communicate to the troops without anyone else being able to understand what orders I'm giving. Only a few non-Mandos know the language."

"Ma'am, I'm not Mandalorian; I'm just the unfortunate clone of a Mandalorian bounty hunter."

She looked at him in surprise. "You mean you've never been taught Mando'a at all?"

He shrugged. "When Jango was training us on Kamino, he taught us some Mandalorian war chants, to get us all hyped up for battle, but that's all the Mando'a I know. I didn't even recognize the language you were speaking until you told me what it was."

"Jango should've taught you the language; you're just as Mando as he is."

"I'm just a clone. The Republic considers me to be an expendable meat-can."

"Just because the Republic considers you to be an expendable meat-can doesn't mean that you _are _an expendable meat-can. Would you like me to teach you Mando'a?"

"I would be honored, General." She seemed to have forgotten the attacker. He paused, deliberating on what to say next. The extensive training on Kamino hadn't prepared him in the ways of friendly conversation.

"Okay. First of all, the name of our Brigade ––– Ade Verda ––– is Mando'a for 'The Children Warriors' If you wanted to say the name of your squad ––– Rainbow Platoon ––– in Mando'a, you would say _'Birov Alii'gai' _Let me hear you say it."

"Bee-ROHV ah-LEE-gai," Wolf repeated slowly. The words rolled easily from his tongue. _That's probably because Fett taught me to sing in Mando'a, though he didn't bother translating the words into Basic so that we would understand what we were saying. _"How do I say, 'thank you'?"

"_Vor entye."_

"Vor-ENT-yay," Wolf repeated.

"_Ba'gedet'ye, Wolf'ika ––– _you're welcome, Little Wolf."

"_Little _Wolf?" A voice identical to Wolf's guffawed.

He saw Adriaan stiffen as the others finally came out of the tents and ran out in full gear, weapons at the ready. Perhaps their arrival had reminded her of what had recently transpired.

Rez, aware that the danger was past, put his blaster rifle on safety and gave Wolf a friendly head-butt in greeting. Their helmets clanked together loudly as they hit each other.

"Scared of the dark, eh, Little Wolf?" Rez asked cheekily, removing his helmet, which had the Aquahawks logo painted above the T-Mask. He was the only clone in the Platoon who followed professional sports.

"Oh, I don't mean that he's a little child," Adriaan explained. "In Mando'a, you can also add _'ika _to the name of a person that is a very close friend."

"Understand, _Rez'ika_?" Wolf asked innocently. Rez playfully elbowed him in the ribs.

Kan looked at his Master. He was visibly disturbed. "Master, are you all right?"

She certainly didn't look all right. Her skin had always been naturally pale, but she looked whiter than a medic's gown now. The ivory color of her skin further set off the purplish-green pallor of a dark bruise that marked her temple. Blood dripped out of the corners of her mouth, giving her the appearance of an Anzati vampire.

"That's a nasty bruise you've got," Rez commented. "Need Vyto to slap some bacta on it?"

"I'm all right," Adriaan said, shrugging off their concerns. "The fight got pretty…ugly."

"Who _did _you fight?" Kan asked, but he was interrupted by a sudden gush of wind that blew past them.

"There was a fight?" Klamin asked, morphing into the form of one of the creatures that had attacked earlier that day. "Hey, General, what do you think of this shape? Bleh, how can these monsters stand these scales? They're so itchy."

"For a Lightningite, you move like a herd of banthas," Adriaan growled. "Where have you been for the past seventy-five minutes?"

"Well, first of all, Nic and Andre's group covered a lot of ground, and I had to take a five minute detour around a bottomless chasm to reach them," Klamin said. "Also, once I got to them, it took me awhile to extract myself…you know how Nic and Andre are."

"Mr. Mouth-on-legs and Sir Prankster? Yeah, I can see that," Kan said.

Aedan puffed out his chest with pride. "That's my WICKED boys. Those are some pretty WICKED names you have for them. What do you call me?"

"Mister I-love-myself. Moving on," Adriaan said. "Spy'Odo, what do you have to report?"

"Hah hah ––– Spy'Odo ––– good one, General…"

"I asked you a question, Padawan, and if you value your life you will answer in as few words as possible, right now."

"Okay: I completed the assignment."

"Klamin, the point of a report is to tell you commanding officer information something she doesn't know."

"But you told me to answer in as few words as possible," Klamin pointed out innocently.

"_Di'kut! _Tell me what I want to know right now!" Adriaan said sternly.

"All right, all right, I was just getting to it," Klamin said, drawing away. "The fact of the matter is, I was able to find all the groups except for one. And that one group, I believe, had been heading southwest.

"Their tracks were fresh; shapeshifting into a native beast, I caught onto their scent and followed them. It was then that I stumbled on the base. I lost the trail at the perimeter."

"_The base." _Adriaan grabbed him by the shoulders. "Quick, boy, was Grievous hiding there? Did you find the missing squad?"

"I don't know if Grievous was there because you gave me strict orders not to infiltrate the station until I had 'professional assistance'" Klamin rolled his eyes. "Anyway, the place was crawling with droids, so I don't think I would've needed to go in to confirm the head clanker's presence. And no; I didn't find the group. They must've gone inside the base itself."

Adriaan closed her eyes. Wolf wondered which squad had been stupid enough to do such a thing. Certainly not one that included clone troopers; Wolf and his brothers had been told specifically to never go against the orders of a Jedi General.

"It was Heatrian's squad, wasn't it." She didn't voice it as a question. Like Wolf, she realized that no squad with clone soldiers would disobey her orders. Heatrian's group had consisted of Terry, Minir, Kien, Jahn Pal, and Sai'wer.

All Wicked Club members.

_ Wow, we really did a pretty bad job dividing up the teams, _Wolf thought. _That group had absolutely no supervision whatsoever. No wonder they took off._

"We need to get them out of there. Klamin, go back and…" she stopped. "Never mind. I can't have another missing Apprentice on my hands. Go get Jordin. She's shipping out of here now, before something drastic happens."

"You mean that something drastic hasn't happened just now?" Kan said.

"Are the repairs finished?" Rez asked. "It's not even 2000 yet."

"I was almost done before I was interrupted by…that guy. I'll touch up the pod while Vyto gets Jordin." She slid underneath the pod and continued to work on the repairs.

"Who was 'that guy' anyway?" Klamin asked, running his hand along the lifepod.

There was a long silence from underneath the pod. Finally, Adriaan put down the fusioncutter and selected a servodriver from her toolbox. "I don't know."

"Adriaan, I can tell that you know something about this guy. You obviously hate him. We may be fools, but you can't pull the bantha hide over our eyes on this one."

"Whether I know him or not isn't your business, and, furthermore, doesn't relate to the matter at hand. Five Padawans have gone _missing. _Their last known location was inside enemy territory. You know what we call that in the Grand Army? MIA ––– Missing in Action." She paused. "Usually soldiers who are MIA are brought back dead."

Klamin swallowed. Heatrian was his adopted brother. They had both been trained by a self-exiled Jedi named the Night Falcon, before Adriaan had found them and brought them to the Jedi Temple, where they could begin the more serious studies of becoming Jedi Knights. Klamin rarely did things with Heatrian now, since the Pyronite had gone over the Wicked Club, but they were still close.

"Are you injured, Master?" Kan asked.

"Why should you care?"

"Because I'm your Padawan."

From underneath the hull, Adriaan snorted. "And how does that give you the authority to be so nosy?"

"I wasn't being nosy, I was just concerned for your health," Kan retorted.

"Well, I think you should just keep your concerns to yourself. And that didn't really answer my question."

"I may not be the most talented or diligent Jedi Apprentice, but at least I'm smart enough to know that it is the Master's duty to satisfy the curiosity and enlighten the mind of her Padawan."

"Then, in that case, I am not required to answer your questions because according to you, I am not your Master."

"What do you mean?" Kan asked, his brows drawing together in a puzzled frown.

"Oh, come on, Kan, do you think I never know what's on your mind? You're always thinking about your old Master, and how you wished he was still alive. You're never happy with the present; you're not happy with _me _as your Master, because I'm young, and not Ruru, and I'm not good enough for the likes of _you_."

The words seemed to hit Kan like a punch in the face. "So what do you want me to do? Dishonor my first Master by forgetting about him?" he hissed furiously. "Come on, Adriaan, you can't expect me to do that. I certainly don't expect it of _you_."

"I've forgotten about my Master, and that's more than she ever deserved," Adriaan said.

"And what makes her deserve your ingratitude?"

"Ingratitude? She did nothing for me," Adriaan snorted.

"Then how come you're a Jedi Knight now? You must've been taught _something_."

"It's none of your business."

"It _is _my business," Kan fairly screamed. "Because I am your _Padawan_!"

"Then if you're my Padawan, why don't you treat me like your Master for once?!"

"I _do_ treat you as my Master!"

"No, you don't. Whenever you talk about 'your Master' you're referring to Ruru, not me. I can see it in your face. You wish that I had died instead of Master Xelan. So be it."

"Adriaan…Master, I –––"

"Don't call me Master!" she roared. "You do it only in mockery of me! Get out! If your mind must be enlightened, I will not be the one to do it! Go! Go to your true Master! I hope that your dead mentor will still be able to hear you!"

Kan stood very still, his face white with fury. He turned as if to go, then suddenly whipped around, reached down, and pulled Adriaan out by her legs from underneath the pod. He stared at her upturned face.

"You will regret what you have said," he said, his voice quiet, yet filled with menace. "All I did was ask if you were all right, and you accused me of wishing for your death. You turn love into hate and kindness into poison. Kestrel was right; you_ are _evil."

He spun around on his heel and marched away.

* * * * *

Soon after Kan's dramatic exit, Klamin left the group to go find him. He found the angry teenager lying on the floor of the tent they had shared the first night on Umbria, using his backpack as a pillow as he lay on his back with his arms crossed, glaring upwards at something that wasn't there. More like _someone _that wasn't there.

Klamin liked Adriaan ell Talaan, but there were some things about her personality that needed to be cleaned up. But it wasn't entirely her fault that she was a jerk; after all, she was the alleged "best friend" of a Jedi Padawan turned serial killer turned sith. Such an affiliation would have tainted Adriaan's character, Klamin was sure.

Ra'hal Espera had been the first Padawan of Klamin's unofficial mentor, the Night Falcon. She had been a gifted, competent student, until she had been captured and tortured by sith cultists. At their hands, she had become a twisted, demented evil. A regular murderer. A psychopath. She had tried to kill Falcon, and failed. Her Master feared her and had taken Klamin as his protege, to turn him into a champion for the Republic. Klamin's destiny was to kill the deranged assassin, but first he had to find her.

He had been looking for his opponent for a year, and he still hadn't gotten any closer to solving the mystery. It wasn't that he hadn't tried; as soon as he had met Adriaan, he had questioned her closely about an Apprentice by the name of Ra'hal. Falcon had described his former student as a young, beautiful human girl about Adriaan's age, with a spiraled tattoo scarring her right arm from her palm to the outside of her elbow. Adriaan was young, and a human, and a female, with the same disturbing mark on her hand, and Klamin had at first been terrified that _she _was the one he was looking for. But before he could make any stupid mistakes, Adriaan had explained that she and several other Padawans had acquired the tattoo when they were captured by cultists. Klamin had then grabbed at the lifeline and asked her the identity of her comrades. She had reluctantly admitted that one of them had been Ra'hal Espera, who had apparently died a few years before. Relieved that his task had been accomplished by someone else, Klamin had stuck with that story.

But Falcon hadn't been satisfied with such an excuse. He claimed that he had trained her so well that only a few would have the power to destroy his Apprentice. He had pointed out that General ell Talaan had been Ra'hal's best friend, and had suggested that Adriaan had lied to keep Ra'hal safe. He had urged Klamin more than ever to discover the whereabouts of young Espera.

No one knew it, but Klamin had a secret comlink transplanted in his body. It was open on one private, perfectly secure channel. It was this device that allowed Klamin to communicate with Falcon. He had last spoken to his former Master less than a month ago, and it was clear that the Night Falcon was not pleased with the Shi'Odo's inability to flush Ra'hal out of hiding.

"It's taking awfully long for you to find someone that is clearly alive. It's not like I'm asking you to resurrect someone from the dead," Falcon had said.

"I've done all I can," Klamin had repeated. "Adriaan's not yielding me any more information. I am forced to conclude that she knows nothing more, and that Ra'hal is, indeed, dead."

"And that, young Apprentice, is exactly what she _wants _you to think," Falcon had insisted.

"She knows nothing. I am certain."

"If you are so certain that she indeed knows _nothing, _then she is of no more use to you."

Klamin had started at his Master's ominous tone. Falcon had once said it was better to be dead than useless. "I'm not killing her just because she doesn't know something."

"And that is what makes you incompetent, and of little use to me. Oh, no, I'm not threatening you, boy, I was just thinking of the poor, unavenged souls of your family…"

And that's what always got to Klamin. It was true, there was a more personal motive behind his need to find Ra'hal. She had been the one who had senselessly murdered everyone that he had known and loved. Falcon had found him on the streets, and had taken him under his wing. Klamin owed a debt to his dead parents, and to Falcon, too.

"I will have news of her in one month," Klamin had promised, and he knew Falcon would not forget.

The only place that would have datafiles on Ra'hal had to be the Jedi Archives on Coruscant. The only problem was that Klamin wasn't going to be available for a research trip to the Jedi library any time soon.

But Jordin was being CASEVACed back to the Republic fleet, and then she was making the trip back to Triple Zero, AKA Coruscant, to relay Adriaan's report. The report would be delivered to the Jedi Council. Jordin would no doubt be delayed for a few days, at least, and that was more than enough time for her to research in the Jedi Archives.

The question was, would Jordin be willing to do it for Klamin? Not only that, would she agree to keeping it a secret from her own Master? Jordin was effervescent, but she could be a pretty nerdy Padawan when it came to bending the rules. Besides, even though Jordin made friends with almost everybody, Klamin wasn't particularly someone that was her special buddy. She got along with everyone, but the people she hung out with the most was Kan Enik and Marya Yon. If one of them asked her, she would definitely do some secret research in the Archives.

Adriaan's fight with Kan had been a stroke of luck. She had hurt and angered Kan, and whenever he got that way, he started to think whether there was something wrong with his Master, after all. Klamin knew that he had always been curious about Adriaan's life as a Padawan, but he never pried into her personal business unless he was frustrated with her. Now would be the perfect time to persuade Kan Enik to act.

Klamin knew that by doing so, he was leading Kan into temptation, and while that made him uncomfortable, the thought of his dead family urged him on.

"_The ends don't justify the means, Klamin," his mother had said to him._

_ Sorry, Mom. I have to do this. For you. For Dad. For my siblings. For my friends. For Falcon. For all of us._

"I know why you're upset," Klamin said, morphing into a cloner from Kamino and sitting down cross-legged next to Kan. He had purposely taken on the shape of a Kaminoan because their voices always sounded suave, calm, and logical. He had to modulate his words carefully so that he could persuade his friend to do what he wanted him to.

_Sneak._

"Adriaan doesn't mean what she says," Klamin continued. "She is a…sad creature. She does not understand our ways of life."

Kan's gaze remained fixed at the sky, but the shift in the Force told Klamin that he had caught his interest. "I don't know why she chose me as a Padawan. She hates me. Two months into the Apprenticeship, and she realized that I wasn't worth her time. That's why she picked up the rest of you; because you're all more talented the Force than I am. I've always struggled with my ability to harness the power of the Force."

"Kan, she doesn't hate you," Klamin said, laying his long, chilly, slender fingers on Kan's warm cheek. His tone was coldly sympathetic, for Kaminoans rarely generated emotion. "She just doesn't understand. She lived a very…different childhood than we did."

"Yes, I've heard what it was like; an accelerated Apprenticeship, ending tragically with the death of her beloved Master," Kan remarked sarcastically. "One of the most gifted children at the Jedi Temple, she had been chosen by her Master at a very young age. Yes, my story is much different from hers.

"Ruru Apprenticed me at age thirteen. I was almost too old to be a Youngling, and was about to pack up and move on to the AgriCorps with the other failed Force-adepts. My Apprenticeship lasted barely a year, and then I watched as my Master was cut down before my eyes because of _my _mistakes."

"Adriaan wasn't as popular as you seem to think," Klamin said. "She was powerful, yes, but her power was of the sort that made the other Apprentices shun her. I don't know what happened to her, but there was little love involved in her childhood. Because of this, I don't think she realizes it when she hurts people's feelings."

There was a brief pause. Then, just when Klamin thought he'd lost Kan, the boy spoke up. "What do you think happened?'

"I don't know," Klamin said, then he blurted, "but the Jedi Archives might have files on it. Don't you see, Kan? If we know what she went through as a kid, we'll understand her more, and there'll be less screaming matches. We need to do this for the Clan; the kids don't deserve to see Adriaan freaking out and yelling at the older Apprentices all the time. This fighting has got to stop."

A moment of silence. Then, "Jordin's going to Coruscant."

Then Klamin knew he had him. "But can she research this without telling anyone why she's doing it?"

"If I ask her. But the information might be buried too deep for a twelve-year-old girl to access."

"We can give her keywords, like Adriaan's name, her Master's name, the year she was Knighted, the name of the cult that had imprisoned her, the names of her friends…heck, I'm sure she can even ask the head librarian or whatever to give her a list of all the Master/Padawan teams within the past ten years."

"Some files are protected."

"I thought Padawans were encouraged to study."

"Yes, but there is some archive data that only Jedi Masters can access. Such as information on sith doctrine, forms of torture, holocrons, et cetera. Apprentices aren't allowed to show an interest in that sort of thing."

"What about the Disciples of Ragnos?"

Kan shrugged. "They're a pretty popular cult. I've heard of some elite Padawans doing research reports on them, but not Apprentices as young as Jordin. The Council would be suspicious."

"What if a Master sent her Padawan to the library to pick up that information? Would the Apprentice be allowed to access the data then?"

"Y-y-e-e-s-s," Kan said, drawing out the word as he thought it out, "but she'll need a permission slip."

"That can be arranged." Klamin withdrew a piece of flimsi from his pocket, took out a pen, and shapeshifted so that he looked exactly like General ell Talaan. "What do you think Adriaan would say?"

"Whoa, that's creepy," Kan said, staring at Klamin/Adriaan, fascinated. "Can you make yourself look like Yoda?"

"_Dear librarian, I am sending Apprentice Skraps to pick up protected archive data on the Disciples of Ragnos. This data is of highest importance, and is crucial to my mission. Please assist my Padawan in procuring the datafile, and any other additional information she needs. Love, General ell Talaan. _How's that?"

"Um, drop the love part, and the archivist's name is Jocasta Nu."

"All right." Klamin quickly scribbled the note, rolled it up, morphed back into a Shi'Odo shape, and handed the flimsi to Kan. "Make sure Jordin gets this. Oh, and you'll need to write an additional set of instructions for our courier, so that she doesn't give the information to the wrong person."

"Okay." Kan ripped off a sheet from the pad, and wrote on the flimsi with clumsy haste. When he was done, he folded up the secret instructions and tucked it into his utility belt, along with the forged permission slip. "Are you sure that we'll find the answer to Adriaan's problem in the Jedi Archives?"

"Kan, trust me, this information will not only help us have better Master/Padawan relationships with her, it is vital to the welfare of the Republic. I can't go into much detail, but my old Master warned me to be on the lookout for a Jedi pervert that has been responsible for the deaths of many innocent people."

"And you think it's Adriaan?" Kan was clearly shocked.

"No, no, but I think she knows the person. You might recognize the name yourself. Ra'hal Espera."

Kan sucked in his breath. "I've heard about Ra'hal, but all I know about her is that Adriaan gets really mad whenever someone mentions her."

"She was Adriaan's best friend. A fellow Apprentice. She has a cultist tattoo identical to the one on Adriaan's arm. Did you see who attacked Adriaan, by the way?"

"No, but by how she acted, I thought it might be someone called Haak. He was a sith cultist, too. Adriaan doesn't like to talk about him, either."

"It could also have been Ra'hal who attacked. The possibilities are endless. It's not right for Adriaan to keep this a secret. I've heard of Haak, too. A nasty piece of work. He was probably hand in glove with Ra'hal. If either one of them are alive, do you realize what they could accomplish?" Klamin looked at his companion. "Does this bother you? I know that what we're doing is against the wishes of our Master, but it's for the best, isn't it?"

Kan's fists clenched. "You're right," he said quietly, no doubt thinking of what Adriaan had said to him earlier. "It's time we got to the bottom of this."


	15. MEDEVACs and MIAs

**_Su'cuy, _everyone! Sorry I haven't updated in a few days; my document manager wouldn't upload the next chapters, but it's fixed now. Okay, read, and if you particularly enjoy/hate this chapter, or noticed any sort of grammatical or plot error, well, you know how to let me know. Your feedback is greatly appreciated! **

**Disclaimer: I am not the genius who made up _Star Wars, _though nearly all the characters - along with a few planets and creatures - in this story were created by me.**

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Chapter 15

Jordin's condition had become drastic. When Adriaan entered the tent with Vyto, she barely recognized the girl. Jordin had always been so bright and vivid, and within twenty-four hours, she had been reduced to a mere shadow.

At least the kid's respiratory system wasn't depressed. Adriaan felt reassured at the rhythmic rise and fall of Jordin's chest, yet her breathing was the only thing that seemed to be healthy. The burns on her arms and legs seemed to be in the process of healing, but the livid, oozing marks still looked pretty ugly. The skin that hadn't been burned had turned ghost-white, and though her face was peaceful, it was not the kind of peace that came to the living. It was the peace of one soon to die.

"Are you going to wake her?" Adriaan asked finally.

"She seems to be in less pain when she's asleep, but I don't think it wise to keep her in an unconscious state, not if ICP continues to increase," the medic said.

"ICP?"

"Intracranial Pressure. Symptom of Traumatic Brain Injury, or TBI."

"Oh. Well, let's get her up, then."

Vyto nodded and bent down, gently pushing the patient up to a sitting position to arouse her. "Ma'am, it's time to wake up. Ma'am!" He touched her, but she didn't respond. After a moment, he took out a small spray bottle and began to methodically mist the girl's face with water. Adriaan began to get worried.

"Has the painkiller worn off yet?" she inquired, when their efforts still had no effect on Jordin.

"Yes ma'am."

"Should we be worried that she is having trouble awakening?"

There was a pause.

"Vyto?"

"It can indicate that ICP has become very severe," he said reluctantly.

That really freaked her out. Crouching in front of her unconscious Apprentice, she speculated on whether she should try shaking Jordin awake, but then thought of the head injury and refrained from doing so. Shaking the girl could only make it worse. Instead, she placed her hand on the Padawan's forehead and let the Force flow through her body into Jordin's, gently soothing and untangling the turbulence and confusion in the child's mind. That method seemed to work, for it wasn't long before the redhead sighed and slowly opened her eyes.

"Jordin, you awake?"

The empty, dead stare Miss Chatterbox gave her tore at Adriaan's heart. She would have expected Jordin to sit up immediately and make some sort of impertinent remark about Adriaan's inability to ask an intelligent question, but this was the reaction she got instead: dumb, blank silence. This was not like her Padawan at all. This was just an image, a reflection of the child named Jordin Skraps.

Her eyes didn't look right, either, or was it just the dim light that made them look out of focus? Adriaan tried to put aside her uneasiness. She was just afraid because she was inexperienced with how to deal with head trauma…

"Do you think she can stand?" Adriaan whispered to Vyto. She spoke quietly because the look Jordin was giving her made her uncomfortable. It was the stare of a stranger.

"She's had a gradual loss of coordination and speech, but I think if we helped her, she can make it to the pod."

"All right." Adriaan held out her hands to Jordin. "Grab my hand, Jordin. We're going to get you out of here."

Jordin stared listlessly at her Master's outstretched hand, as if not even aware that it was there. Then, to Adriaan's further discomfort, she flopped back against her sleeping mat and began to convulse horribly, shouting out something that was mostly incomprehensible. Adriaan was only able to understand two words ––– "Bright" and "Hurt"

"Vyto?" Adriaan asked quaveringly, involuntarily shrinking away from Jordin.

"That's a common enough symptom, ma'am; convulsions, and seeing bright lights. Expected in most mild forms of traumatic brain injuries, but they can also be a sign of severe TBI, too."

Jordin had calmed down by now, and upon drawing closer, Adriaan discovered why.

"She's lapsed back into unconsciousness."

"We have to keep her awake."

"I'll give it another try."

Adriaan placed her hand on Jordin's forehead again, and the girl soon aroused, this time sitting up on her own and actually looking about with a little curiosity.

"It's time to go, Jordin."

"Uhhhhhhnnnnnnnn…sssssstttttttttt," Jordin grunted.

"Let me help you stand," Adriaan began, but Jordin shook her head, taking several seconds to complete the gesture.

"Nnnnnnaaa," she said, flinging her left arm at Adriaan in a haphazard way. She pitched forward and, incredibly, stood up on her own. A renewed purpose in her eye, she staggered as she took the first step, but was caught by Adriaan and Vyto, who supported her on her wobbly legs. Slowly, they made their way through the camp.

Jordin grew steadily weaker as they came closer and closer to the escape pod. When they were within ten meters of their destination, she came to a stop, straightened, and said, very slowly but clearly, "Puke."

She pushed herself away from her supporters and actually stumbled several meters forward without any assistance. When she was about six meters away from everyone else, she doubled over, braced her hands on her knees, and started to throw up. Unfortunately, the poor girl was too uncoordinated to complete the action and keeled over after about ten seconds of violent retching. Adriaan and Vyto were forced to hold her up until the vomiting ceased.

By then, everyone else in the camp had come to observe Jordin's progress. Jordin's medical escort emerged from the pod and stepped forward to take the girl from Adriaan and the clone medic. Jordin, utterly devitalized, looked at Rez without any sign of recognition and simply slumped against his shoulder.

Kan stepped forward cautiously. _Perhaps he doesn't want to get any closer because he's afraid she's contracted a contagious disease, _Adriaan thought cynically.

"What's wrong with her?" He demanded, keeping his distance. Ah, now she understood. He was staying far away from _her, _not Jordin.

"Increased ICP and diagnosis of mild to severe TBI," Vyto said.

"Her brain injury has gotten a lot worse, Kan," Adriaan explained, careful to keep her face averted. Things were so strained between them now that she felt that if she even made eye contact with him, he would take it as an open invitation to continue where the fight had left off.

"I give her an estimated time of twenty-four hours before the intracranial pressure gets too high," Vyto said. "If she is not in a medical bay within that time, Rez, you're going to need to perform emergency control techniques to keep ICP from reaching that point."

"Understood, doctor," Rez said with a salute.

"Once you get to the frigate, inform the head medical droid of the present symptoms, particularly the frequent lapses into unconsciousness, numbness of limbs, convulsions, nausea, vomiting, seeing bright lights, difficulty awakening, increasing confusion, trouble with coordination, reflexes, and speech…hang on." Vyto removed his helmet and stepped forward to peer more closely at Jordin's face. "Wolf!"

"Yes?"

"Hand me your glowlamp for a minute, will you?"

Wolf placed the small, cylindrical device into the medic's hand. Vyto raised it so that it was in front of Jordin's eyes and flicked the switch that turned it on.

Then, to everyone's immense shock, Vyto swore. The boys of Shadow Squad had always been well-mannered, and it was scary to hear Vyto ––– who was probably the most civil and polite clone in the whole platoon ––– curse aloud.

"Vyto! How in the universe did you get that Hutt-maw for a mouth?" Rez asked.

"Shut it! The kid's got anisocoria!"

"Aniso-what?" Klamin asked.

"Is it WICKED?" Aedan inquired.

"Anisocoria is a condition characterized by unequal pupil size," Wolf explained.

"Here, take a look," Vyto said, standing back and shining the glowlamp in Jordin's eyes. Sure enough, one pupil reacted to the light, while the other one remained dilated.

"What does that mean?" Kan asked.

"It means that things have gotten much worse than they were before," Vyto said grimly. "Rez, inform the medic that on top of everything else, she has a blown pupil. It's a sign of very severe brain injury."

"And if they ask which pupil is abnormal, I want you to say, 'She has mydriasis and go have overloaded sensors somewhere else if you're just going to stand here and ask me the medical term for her condition. You fix this girl's brain up or I'll fix _you, _grease bucket' In those exact words, got it?" Wolf added.

"Sure, I'll take care of it," Rez said, apparently unconcerned, but then you never could tell when Rez was worried. Getting a firmer grip on the girl, he steered her gently into the escape pod. "However, I'm not so sure the med droid will be pleased if I talk to him that way. Those droids can get touchy about how they are addressed."

"Yes, but with med droids these days, you almost have to threaten them at gunpoint to get them to treat a patient in need of emergency care. I met a guy from Striil Company who had recently lost a clone brother. It had been after the battle of Christophsis." He paused. "His friend had gotten caught in friendly fire from an AT-TE and was in a condition similar to Jordin's. The chief droid denied him medical assistance because of the crowded bay and the small chance of his recovery. The guy from Striil blasted the droid's head off and requested better medical care, but the med robot was simply replaced with a newer model that had the same Hutt-cursed programming. The clone trooper got thrown into a detention cell for three days, and when he got out, it was only to find that his buddy had died from lack of treatment."

Adriaan was shocked. "You never told me this," she murmured. "You clones are my responsibility! If they're denying you medical care, I need to do something about it!"

"There is nothing that can be done, ma'am," Wolf said quietly. "Sorry, I shouldn't have said anything."

"I should go with her," Kan said fiercely, no doubt terrified that the same thing would happen to Jordin. "Rez can't handle this on his own!"

"He can handle it better than you, my young…Kan," Adriaan said, refraining from calling him her Padawan. "He has medical training."

"But he's just a _clone trooper_."

Kan probably regretted his words almost instantly, for Adriaan whirled on him so vehemently that she almost knocked him over. She considered taking it a step farther by actually striking her Padawan, but she caught herself just in time. She had a mission to complete; she just had to ignore comments like these, and keep Kan from getting under her skin. It was for the good of the Clan and the Platoon.

She glanced up at the sky, preparing herself for the ordeal. She had controlled a storm once before, when she was still a Padawan. It had only been a thunderstorm ––– not a gigantic nebula ––– but she had created it all by herself. She had done it without meaning to; she had been angry, and had unleashed her fury to the elements. As a result, she had caused catastrophic weather that had been nearly impossible to calm down. Anyway, she knew the nature of storms, for she had started one through the Force herself.

What people did not know about controlling storms was that there was really no "controlling" about it. The Twi'Lek's on Ryloth had a saying, "One must not fight the heat storm; one must ride it." That was the secret to Adriaan's power. She was not a Master of Storms; she was, in a way, part of the elements. So it was only natural for her to connect to them.

"I'm ready, Rez," she said.

Wolf and Vyto helped Rez get Jordin into the pod. Kan followed in, probably to make sure the apparently inadequate clones got his friend properly secured. The three non-crew members emerged a few minutes later and dragged away the pieces of metal that had previously suspended the pod from the ground for repairs.

General ell Talaan activated her earpiece comlink that allowed her to have private conversations with her clones, who had special comm systems installed in their helmets. "Take good care of her, Rez."

"Will do, General. Don't worry about the mydriasis; people make recoveries from TBI all the time."

"Not in the GAR; the Grand Army of the Republic is just letting you boys die. This is supposed to be some topnotch army, and they're denying medical treatment for critically injured soldiers. How can the Republic say that it has the ultimate army when it can't even supply the basic needs for its own troopers?"

"Wolf was only upset about the diagnosis because it reminded him of that one guy from Striil. He shouldn't have told you; there's nothing you can do about it."

"One thing I've learned in my life, Rez, is that people will always say that I can't make a difference, yet it is not their responsibility to run the universe, so what do _they _know?"

"Perhaps they can see something about you that you can't; for example, that you're fantasizing about your ability to change the galaxy?"

"Better to die a hopeful fool than a pessimistic genius. Force be with you, _Rez'ika._"

"May the blaster bolts never hit you, Little General." That was Rez's version of "May the Force be with you"

Adriaan cut the communication and crouched in a meditative stance as the lifepod successfully initiated takeoff. She waited patiently for the pod to exit the inner atmosphere, taking the time to gather the Force around her and reach out to the heart of the Storm.

_We are one. Mhi cuyir solus. _

She was the nebula. She was the Cloak of the Sith. She was a turbulent storm of cosmic energy. So she knew the exact moment when the craft left Umbria.

_One cannot stop a storm. One must ride it._

_ "Rez, don't try to pilot the ship through the nebula. I will make the energy waves move around you, and they will speed your passage through the Cloak of the Sith."_

Adriaan didn't know if Rez could hear her through the Force, but she hoped that he knew her enough to understand what she wanted him to do.

She had a hard time at first altering the natural path of the nebula's energy, but after several tries, she got the hang of it. The clones had settings on their HUD that allowed them to follow the path of the escape pod, so their constant updates on the progress of the pod assured her of her success. She herself could not see the pod ––– she had her eyes closed, and she didn't even have the kit to view the pod while it was in space, anyway ––– but she could feel it, or rather, the people inside it. Rez was not a Force-adept, but she could sense him through the Force. She knew that he was afraid, but he was the type of man that took his fear and converted it into adrenaline.

_They all feel so different through the Force, _she thought, smiling at the ignorance of the rest of the galaxy, who acted as if the clones were nothing more than toy soldiers who would fight wars ––– without questions, without civil rights, without pay, without even basic medical support ––– for people who sat on their couches at home and ate root chips while watching the latest romance holovid.

She had at first had the same opinion of clone troopers as the rest of the bantha-brained Republic, but that had been before she had really seen how the clones really lived, and what the war was really like. It wasn't some heroic fight for peace and freedom ––– not even the Republic cared about the principles of justice anymore ––– it was all about the grab for the filthy credits and the fame and the _power_. A war fought over poodoo would have had more justice in it.

The clones ––– her brothers, in a way ––– realized this. They despised the reason they were created, yet they still had a desire to live. Adriaan found this contrast of character unique, and wondered if there were any other people in the galaxy like that. Probably not ––– not if the majority of people spent their lives sitting on couches and shoveling down junk food while watching trashy holovids or reading lame love stories.

Jordin's presence through the Living Force seemed weaker than Rez's. It was a sign that her life was ebbing. She seemed little more than a wraith now. Her spirit was like a little lost child, crying alone in her abandonment…

_No, you can't die, Jordin. Hang in there, girl._

* * * * *

"Did you get the instructions to Jordin?" Klamin asked the next morning.

Kan stopped in the procedure of taking down the shelter to wipe the sweat that was dripping into his eyes. One thing he had to admire about Adriaan was that she always did what she said she was going to do, with the exception of being a good Master to him, of course. He wanted to ask her how she had learned to control a storm, but she had been giving him the cold shoulder ever since their fight the night before. So he hadn't addressed her.

"I gave them to Rez," Kan confessed. "I told him that it was of vital importance that Jordin was given the instructions as soon as she recovered. I don't think we have to worry about him taking a look at the contents of the note; I gave him orders that it was only to be opened by her, and he's a clone, so you know what that means."

"Mr. Nerdy?"

"Exactly."

"Actually, they're not that nerdy. Just…respectful. They're just doing what they were raised to do." Klamin paused uncomfortably. "Why don't you like clones, Kan?"

Kan stiffened. He hadn't ever cared to give the details of his past life to his fellow Apprentices. He didn't want them to learn of his prejudice against clones, because of what their "father" did to his first Master…

"None of your business."

"Okay, then, Master _ell Talaan._"

Klamin left before Kan could recover from the remark, so the Shi'Odo got the last word.

"I'm _not _like Adriaan!" Kan told himself firmly as he got back to work. Yet, as he thought about it, he began to see the similarities between them.

* * * * *

"Since the first portion of our ground mission ––– finding the Separatist base ––– has been accomplished, it's time to move on to the next level," Adriaan said at the start of the morning briefing. The remaining members of Shadow Squad were standing at attention next to her, helmets off. The rest of the group was sitting in a ring around the General, munching on protein packs. It was nearly afternoon because they had dedicated their morning to clearing out the campsite, obliterating any traces of their presence. If Heatrian's squad had been captured at the base perimeter, there was a good chance that the CIS already knew of the Republic's presence on Umbria, but the team still didn't want to leave anything that would make it easier for the droids to track them.

"Since Jahn Pal and Sai'wer are currently unavailable to make stupidly GOOD comments, might I have the WICKED honor of asking if this next step is going to be WICKEDLY more dangerous?" Aedan asked.

"Of course; the scouting trip was supposed to be a total blue milk run. I wasn't expecting any casualties until this next section of the mission," Adriaan said. "Well, can't be helped, I guess."

"Is this the part when we sic our awesome Jedi powers on Grievous?" Klamin asked eagerly.

"No, this is the time when we come up with a plan to get inside the station."

"Armed siege?"

"Less than thirty of us against at least a battalion of droids?" Adriaan scoffed. "That's insane. Besides, we're short on supplies as it is; we'd be burned out in less than a week."

"If I might offer a suggestion, ma'am, it might be best to get to the base and analyze its structure before brainstorming ideas for getting inside," Wolf offered.

"That sounds reasonable." Adriaan was the type of General that always made decisions quickly. "Klamin, go tell the other groups that the rendezvous location has changed to the site of the base…by the way, you know how to get there, right?"

"It's easy. Just keep a straight course southwest. After about nineteen kilometers you'll come to a large crater. The station is situated beneath a cliff overhang inside the cavity."

"Sounds simple enough, but knowing our luck, something's bound to go wrong. Anyway, take care, Klamin. If Heatrian and the others have been captured, the Separatists will be on the alert for other foreign lifeforms. I don't want to have any other Apprentices kidnapped by tinnies or diagnosed with head trauma."

Wolf had put on his helmet, staring intently at something on the horizon. "Ma'am, an unidentified person is approaching camp from point six."

Adriaan whipped around to take a look. "It's Darc," she said, puzzled.

Two minutes later, Darc Chun-be burst into the camp, completely out of breath. "Tra…tra…" he gasped.

"Come on, man, out with it!" Adriaan said. "Where's Kay Lee?"

Darc was lying facedown in the dirt, struggling vainly to make his voice work. He began to make half-sobbing, half-wheezing sounds in his throat.

"Darc!" Adriaan hauled the boy to his feet. "Breathe!"

"Hold your arms above your head," Klamin suggested.

The Shi'Odo's method seemed to work. After a minute, Darc began to breathe more freely.

"Now, where are the others?" Adriaan demanded. "Why have you come?"

"They've all been captured!" Darc said breathlessly.


	16. Worse News

**_Su'cuy! _Welcome to Chapter 16 of _Behind the Mask! _As usual, I greatly encourage you to review. **

**Disclaimer: I am not the genius who created _Star Wars._**

**Okay, go read, and I really hope you review as well!**

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Chapter 16

Rez was a clone trooper. Smart, fast, efficient, and bred for one purpose; a purpose that he didn't fully understand yet. Yes, he was a human cultivated to aid the Republic, but as it turned out, being a soldier wasn't as simple as blasting battle droids into little bite-sized pieces.

The replicas of Jango Fett had been taught to obey their commanding officers, even if their COs were just a handful of narcissistic shinies. Clones were told to especially respect Jedi, a group of beings that had almost no experience with commanding galactic armies, and yet were automatically assigned as the generals of the Republic military force. Rez had no problem with Adriaan as his general ––– she was a decent sort, for a Jedi ––– but having fifteen or so baby Jedi bossing him around just didn't suit him very well. It was an insult to his intensive military training. He didn't choose to join the Grand Army; if he'd had a choice, he would've chosen an occupation that didn't involve amateurish GAR officers or bratty Padawans.

He didn't like most non-clone officers, but there was one thing he enjoyed about being a clone trooper: he got to see plenty of action. Like all his brothers, he was trained for military combat, technology, procedure, and medicine, which meant that he was qualified to MEDEVAC a twelve-year-old army captain with a critical brain injury, though it didn't exactly fit his rank description. He was a warrior, not a medic, but he only had himself to blame for having this assignment. After all, he was the one who had volunteered to navigate a lifepod through uncharted space while escorting a gravely wounded invalid.

It wasn't his place to criticize his commander, however, he couldn't help but think that Adriaan ell Talaan wasn't laying off the luna-weed. Using the Force to pilot an emergency life vessel through conditions that would make the most desperate of spice smugglers shake in their glitterstim-addicted hides was a ridiculous suggestion at best. CT-1374 didn't know why he hadn't turned around and just walked away at the mere suggestion, but he felt a sort of satisfaction that he had had the guts ––– or lack of brains ––– to selflessly volunteer. Despite his previous misgivings, Adriaan and her freakish, mystical powers had gotten the escape pod out of the nebula without even leaving a scratch on the hull. Rez had activated the distress beacon a few hours ago, so all he had to do was sit back, wait for the frigate to pick him up, and pray that pirates or the CIS didn't get to him first. Though he wasn't really worried about that; he could take on mercs or tinnies any day. His training prepared him so well that he felt confident that he could take whatever the galaxy threw at him. Mercenaries and droids just didn't have Rez's level of skill and intelligence.

So there was really only one problem with this sit-back-and-wait arrangement, and that involved the girl he was evacuating. Jordin Skraps.

He was losing her. She had gone into a coma shortly after takeoff, and now lay sprawled in her seat, immobile and lost in a dreamworld. It was quite sad, watching such a lively child succumb to what could most likely be a life-sustaining brain injury, but Rez had few tears to shed over it. He had seen so much worse on the front lines of war.

There had been little or no turbulence during the entire flight. Rez had arranged the patient so that she was being supported in an upright position, which would encourage excess fluid to drain away from her head. That helped a little, but not much. There was no cerebral fluid exiting via nostrils, ears, or other openings; an indication that there was no skull fracture, and no decrease in intracranial pressure. A mixture of good and bad news.

Luckily, he still knew one particularly effective tactic in controlling ICP levels. He had hesitated to use it before because there was a terrible risk that went with it. The technique could increase her chances of sustaining permanent brain damage. On the other hand, if he let ICP continue to escalate, there was no hope for her full recovery anyway.

This method was usually used in cases of brain hernia, or in which treatment at a medical center would be available within the next seventy-two hours, tops. Surely it wouldn't take the Republic three to find them, Rez reasoned, so he made up his mind immediately to employ the technique.

"Jordin." he sat down beside the girl and took her hand into his own. To his surprise, he found immense pleasure as he wound his strong fingers into her own slender digits. When he touched her, it was as if there was an electric current flowing between them. He enjoyed the supple texture of her skin, the fragility of the bones in her fingers, the smooth creases in her palm. A small part of Rez wondered for a moment why he was reacting so strongly to skin contact. Then he realized why; it was the first time he had ever held someone's hand without either one of them wearing gloves.

_What other things in life have I been missing out on?_

"Jordin," he said again, clearing his throat as he tried to ignore his surging emotions. "You probably won't even notice what I'm going to do next, but I thought it'd only be fair that I tell you. It sounds insane, but I'm going to try to make you hyperventilate. Just try to deal with the lack of air until you get to the medical center, all right?"

As Rez had expected, Jordin didn't react at all to his explanation. She simply lay there, her hand in his own, breathing in deeply. Rez sighed and released her hand, ignoring the urge to remain by the girl's side for a few moments more. He had work to do.

It was unusual to use hyperventilation to stabilize a patient, but it had its uses. The important thing to know about hyperventilation syndrome was that it caused blood vessels to constrict, thereby decreasing bloodflow to the brain, which would temporarily lower ICP. It was not a standard medical procedure because it could complicate the injury with ischemia. Another side effect was that the brain would adjust to the new level of carbon dioxide after fourty-eight to seventy-two hours of hyperventilation, so if the carbon dioxide levels were returned to normal too quickily, the vessels would rapidly dilate, resulting in a permanently reduced and possibly inadequate blood supply to the brain. Much as Rez would hate for that to happen, he felt that he had no choice.

Hyperventilation was commonly caused by stress and anxiety, but it could also be induced by taking many deep breaths. Rez didn't think Jordin was in any condition to voluntarily regulate her breathing, so he would have to instigate hyperventilation without her cooperation.

Escape pods were required by Galactic Law to contain at least a week's worth of supplies for approximately six passengers. Supplies were included but not limited to water, food, flares, a porta-shelter, survival suits, a hunting blaster, and breath masks. Thanking Galactic Law for the first time in his eight years of life, Rez accessed the compartment that contained the respiration implements and selected one out of the six. He quickly fitted it over Jordin's nose and mouth and adjusted the valve that regulated the amount of oxygen filtered through the mask. He tightened the stopcock, thereby reducing the amount of oxygen filtered through the appliance. He watched with satisfaction as the rhythm of the comatose girl's breathing became more rapid.

_Good girl._

Rez looked out the pod viewscreen anxiously, expecting at any second for marauding pirates or Separatist warships to come at him with all cannons at full blaze. The distress signal was sent on an intergalactic frequency, which meant that any ship in the vicinity could pick it up. If the Republic frigate arrived first, Rez and Jordin would be extremely lucky.

He saw the distinct outlines of a Trade Federation starship blip into view, and he reached out and touched the girl's hand again, squeezing it with a conviction he did not actually feel.

They weren't going to be lucky.

* * * * *

There had been general chaos following Darc's outburst, but after five straight minutes of hysteria, Aedan had been effectively assuaged by his Master, who then instantly advanced to relay clear instructions to the remainder of her team.

They were to continue on at full speed towards the target, avoiding Separatist detection as much as possible. They had to hope that the CIS would simply assume that all the Jedi and clones on the planet had been captured. It all depended on whether the Seps would care to interrogate the prisoners, and, if so, whether a Padawan or clone would break under torture and reveal that there were at least thirteen Republic soldiers to account for.

A couple of hours later found them at the RV ––– a sheltered cove about half a klick above the Separatist station ––– awaiting the arrival or the other two squads. Kan halted at the edge of the cliff, wiping the sweat from his brow and unslinging the tiresome baggage from his aching shoulders. The bag had been so heavy Kan had felt as if he had been lugging five Klamins in Hutt form, instead of various military equipment. He watched as Vyto and Wolf eased off packs that were much heavier than Kan's. They hardly seemed winded by the jog; as they slid off their helmets, Kan could not see a trace of sweat or weariness on their smooth reproductions of Jango Fett's face. He felt a pang of shame and jealousy as he realized that they were much stronger than he was, even though he was six years older than them.

He didn't feel so bad when he saw that his own Master looked a little breathless. He had to remember that the clones really had strong men's bodies, even though they weren't even teenagers yet…chronologically speaking, anyway. He didn't need to be as strong as they were; he had the Force as his ally. That made him practically invincible.

Didn't it?

"Several individuals approaching from point oh four, ma'am," Wolf said, sticking his head back into his helmet and tilting his face to one side, as if listening to something.

"Clankers?"

"Negative, General. Wets."

"They're right on time."

Minutes later, Marya, Nic, Andre, and the remainder of Rainbow troop were reunited with their General. Adriaan, who didn't care much for sentimental greetings, didn't waste any time filling them in on the situation.

Marya Yon nodded calmly once she understood what was going on. She was never one to shoot high and right when the odds were against her. "So, what's the plan now?"

Adriaan nodded at Wolf, who was keeping an eye on the station below. "Wolf is analyzing the exterior of the base, to determine possible ways to breach the outer defenses. Any progress, Wolf?"

There was a short, consistent series of clicks as Wolf adjusted the settings on his HUD. "Reinforced quadanium steel structure on a solid anvilstone foundation. The station appears to be a newer Techno Union model." There was a pause, as if the clone was reluctant to go on.

"And?"

"And it appears that the station is cordoned by a scan gate."

Adriaan raised her eyebrows. A scan gate was a deadly system that could render Republic infiltration nearly impossible. It was a field equipped with radiation beams that destroyed organic life, but kept CIS infantry intact. A simple security device, but Adriaan had observed on many occasions that the simpler the device, the harder it was to bypass it.

That portal would incinerate any organic thing that tried to pass through, but would it harm a Pyronite? Adriaan glanced sidelong at Klamin. Since he was a shapeshifter, he could easily get through the gates if he was in the proper form. He could take control of the command center so he could deactivate the scan gate.

The only thing about this plan that made Adriaan uncomfortable was that Klamin would be on his own inside enemy territory. She had no idea what would be lurking inside that station.

_If only I still had Heatrian. Two Padawans are always better than one._

Suddenly, as if in answer to her thoughts, the ground at her feet collapsed into a pool of lava, slowly rising until it took on the familiar semblence of her Pyronite Apprentice.

"Need any help, GOODS?" Heatrian asked.


	17. No Guts, No Dinner

**_Su'cuy! _Sorry I couldn't think of a better chapter name. Anyway, I hope you still enjoy this section. Please review; I would love to hear your comments!**

**Disclaimer: I did not create _Star Wars. _However, creatures and planets and characters - such as Pyronites, Zylxx, and Adriaan - belong to me.**

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Chapter 17

Rez just _knew _that something like this would happen. It was so typical of the CIS to choose to come out of hyperspace right next to the five meters of the galaxy he was occupying, when they could've picked any other spot in a practically infinite universe. To make things worse, they had decided to find him when he was at his most vulnerable. With no artillery, no shields, no reinforcements, and alone in an escape pod with a comatose patient, Rez couldn't see how it could get any worse.

Just the, two more Separatist ships dropped out of hyperspace.

Rez groaned. It was _much _worse.

He flew at the pod controls, leaving Jordin securely strapped into her seat. Gazing out the viewscreen, he rapidly gauged the precarious situation. If his brother Nano had been there, Rez would have no doubt that Nano would be yapping off a string of numbers at this particular moment, all the while calculating the odds of surviving an assault from three CIS warships while inside a lifepod. Shadow Squad's engineer never engaged in any fight before he knew the probability of his success. Determining the possibility of the team's survival took a matter of seconds for Nano. Clones were bred to be smart ––– if they fell short of the mark, they were terminated by the Kaminoans who oversaw their education ––– but Nano was a pure mathematical genius. He did calculus during hyperspace flights and read technical manuals before going to bed every night, for kriffing sake. He was the clone who could always cook up a good battle strategy, thanks to the historical textbooks on ancient military tactics that he read during lunch break. If only the Grand Army commanders did as much research on military strategies as Nano did; maybe that would help them win more battles.

Rez smiled at the memory of his clone buddies, even as his hands automatically jockeyed the controls so that the clumsy craft evaded the laser blasts coming at it heads on. He pulled back on the throttle and eased it to the right, rolling the pod on its side. He had to remember to keep his distance from the frigate, otherwise the Seppies could drag him in with their tractor beam.

Red lasers tore through space, missing the pod by mere millimeters. _Then again, I'd prefer the tractor beam to getting blasted into pieces._

"Looks like we're not going to make it, girl," Rez said aloud, pretending that Skraps could hear him. "Separatist interrogation, here we come."

_ "Come on, show some spirit, soldier!" _ Ember's voice pounded through Rez's brain like a grueling military exercise. _"No guts, no glory!"_

_ No guts, no digesting my dinner, either, _Rez added mentally, his lips curling into a wry smile. Very well. He would die with deck plates under his feet; it beat getting sucked into a Sepper ship and being tortured to death. At least this way, he would die with a clear conscience, knowing that he wouldn't betray Republic secrets to the enemy. He would perish swiftly, in a blaze of glory, with the memory of his comrades at his back. That was surely the best way to go.

Suddenly, there were five flashes of light as new starships entered the sector. Rez was about to protest against the injustice of being attacked by _eight _warships, when he recognized the familiar wedge-shaped outlines of the Republic fleet. He whooped and cheered on his teammates as the GAR ships tore up the surprised CIS formation. After what seemed an eternity, the enemy turned tail and shot off into hyperspace. Rez yelled and punched the air with his fist, glad that Captain Ember wasn't there to see such an unprofessional display of elation, and accessed the comm unit as _LightningStrike _frigate contacted him.

"This is Commander Nibral of the Grand Army of the Republic. Identify yourself!"

"CT-1374 of Starlight Company, reporting from General ell Talaan, Jedi General of Ade Verda Brigade."

There was a pause in the communication as Commander Nibral ran the information through the GAR databanks to make sure it checked out.

"All cleared. Stand by while a retrieval team is sent out."

"Copy that, Commander. Starlight out."

Rez leaned back in his seat and smiled.

"See, I told you we were going to make it," Rez told his unconscious companion.

* * * * *

General ell Talaan and the others were not particularly surprised to learn that Heatrian had eluded capture, for Pyronites were natural escape artists, mostly due to the fact that they could melt through almost any substance. As a bonus, they could assume almost any size and shape, so they could be mistaken for a rock, a slab of stone, a statue, or even a pebble. They made perfect spies, scouts, and assassins.

Which was the reason Adriaan didn't understand why her Padawan hadn't attempted to rescue his comrades. However, the Pyronite soon supplied an explanation why he had chosen to hide rather than directly confront the Separatists.

"I WICKEDLY tried to help the poor GOODS escape, but I was forced to UNWICKEDLY retreat when the battle droids turned on me and fired Freeze Rockets. So WICKEDLY sorry."

Adriaan raised her eyebrows. Freeze Rockets, more commonly referred to as Negaqua, or anti-Pyronite blasters, had been designed and manufactured on Heatrian's homeworld, Zylxx. The weapons had been invented in order to annihilate the Pyronite population, so the organic Zylxxians could harvest a rare metal from dead Pyronite bodies. The substance, known as Kataelectrum, was a necessary component for an illegal superweapon the Zylxxians had devised.

"I thought we had seen the last of those weapons when Zylxx was destroyed by mass volcanic upheavals," Klamin groaned.

"Don't forget that the Zylxxians were in league with the CIS," Adriaan pointed out. "I am not surprised that the Seps were able to ship some of the anti-Pyronite blasters off-planet."

Having said that, the resurfacing of Freeze Rockets was still an unusual development. Adriaan's first assignment in the Clone Wars had been to Zylxx's system, Syleeto, so she well knew the deadly potential of these weapons. Negaquas were the only known means of killing lava-beings. However, Negaquas were practically harmless to all other species, delivering a blast with a power that was the equivalent of the shock from a stun weapon. The unique primary use of the blaster made Adriaan wonder why the CIS had even bothered to retain possession of the design. Pyronite tribes were all but extinct now; those that still survived were out of commission for the next one thousand years or so because they had coalesced with the currently lava-covered planet.

"Here's how I WICKEDLY see it," Aedan piped up. "The WICKED ones will just march in and kill all the GOODS inside."

"Great idea, Aedan," Kan remarked sarcastically. "However, you still need to have a plan to get through the scan gate."

"Easy, you silly GOOD; I'll trick it into thinking that I'm a GOOD old battle droid."

"And how do you propose to do that?" Marya asked.

"By talking in a monotone, like any other GOOD droid."

"I'm afraid that won't work, sir," the clone, Drag, said. "You see, there is no fooling a scan gate; it just fries whatever organic thing it touches, disguise or no disguise."

"So that means we have to become WICKEDLY inorganic?" Andre asked.

"Like Heatrian!" Nic realized.

Heatrian backed away nervously. "Are you GOODLY kidding? If even a single droid detects me, it will just use a Negaqua to GOODLY blast me into scoria."

"If you don't do it, we'll all call you a GOOD man," Aedan jeered.

"Have you ever been hit by a Freeze Rocket? I don't WICKEDLY think so. Sorry, but I'd rather be GOOD than get killed by one of those."

"Then bring a WICKED to act as your bodyguard. Two WICKEDS are always better than one."

"But all the other WICKEDS here are organic lifeforms."

"Okay, WICKED, than this is what you should WICKEDLY do: get through the scan gate with Pyronite-Klamin. Once you're both WICKEDLY through the gate, the GOOD shapeshifter can morph into a WICKED rancor and distract the GOODS while you disarm the GOOD gate and announce to GOOD Grievous that the WICKED Aedan is here."

Adriaan started at her Padawan in amazement. "Why, Aedan, that's probably the most intelligent thing you've come up with in your entire life."

"Intelligent? Bah!" Aedan scoffed. "All I WICKEDLY care about is getting my WICKED friends out of there. Whether my plan is intelligent or not is of no WICKED concern to me."

"Hurrah for the WICKED King!" Andre, Heatrian, and Nic yelled. "His stupidity is pure genius!"

"I hate to rain on everyone's parade, but that plan is a bit too elementary for this situation," Jys said, adjusting his scout visor as he scanned the data on the station streaming on his heads up display. "There appears to be a secondary system set up beyond the scan gate. It's probably a backup security checkpoint, in case the scan gate has to be powered off."

"What kind of security system?" Darc asked. "I'll bet that it'll be a piece of sweetcake for me to crack open."

"Don't get cocky," Adriaan warned. "The Separatists can be quite good at creating a practically impregnable station."

"According to the readouts on my HUD, the system scans the holotag on each droid passing through the energy beams," Wolf said. "Anything that tries to go through without a code sets off the alarm."

"Aw, sithspit," Marya cursed.

"Does this mean that we don't have to GOODLY rescue the GOOD Minir?" Nic asked hopefully. He, like nearly everyone else, had never gotten along with the Wicked Club's "comedian"

Adriaan didn't answer; she was thinking hard, concentrating all her brain power on the Separatist station. As all the Padawans began to lament the impending loss of their comrades, she surprised them all with a smile that lit up the corners of her mouth.

"I've found a way to get in," she said.


	18. Attack of the Wickeds

Chapter 18

Aedan, Nic, and Andre were not at all pleased with the current arrangement. With nearly two-thirds of their club captured by the enemy, things were not looking so WICKED. This wasn't what an adventure was supposed to be like; all they had done was get dragged around an entire planet, yet twelve of the original thirty-seven had managed to fall into enemy hands. Now it was up to Aedan and his remaining sidekicks to save the day.

Unfortunately, Adriaan did not see it in the same way. She seemed to have this notion that putting the Wicked Club on the rescue team was the equivalent of sticking your head in a bull rancor's jaws. "Stay here with Kan and Marya until they give the signal to go in," Adriaan had told them as she was getting ready to leave.

"What the GOOD makes you think we are going to do _that?_" Andre had asked.

"Yeah, we've WICKEDLY had enough of sitting around like GOOD, docile bantha cows," Nic had said. "We want WICKEDNESS! We want urgency! We want action!"

"Well, I'm sorry, but you're going to have to wait a bit longer for the urgency and action to come your way."

"Why, GOOD?" Aedan had demanded.

"Well, you see, I have a job to do, and it doesn't involve fraternizing with nincompoops."

"However, it involves doing something outrageously WICKED," Aedan had observed.

"And in that case, we're WICKEDLY in," Nic had finished.

Adriaan had shaken her head at this. "I can't take all of you. Just the Shi'Odo and the Pyronite."

"Heatrian? Why would you want to take _Heatrian?!_" Andre had said. Then, when the Pyronite had shot him a look that was filled with menace and ––– more importantly ––– magma, he had added hastily, "Not that there's anything GOOD about Heatrian. I'm just WICKEDLY curious why I can't WICKEDLY come, too."

"Curiousity killed the felinx."

"WICKEDNESS brought him back," Aedan had countered.

Adriaan had rolled her eyes. "Whatever. You're still not going."

"But why not? They're _our _WICKED friends," Nic had said.

"Therefore, all of us WICKEDS are entitled to help," Aedan had added.

"You'll all get a chance to help," Adriaan had said, getting irritated. "It's just that Heatrian, Klamin, and I will help in a different way."

"Where is WICKED Heatrian, anyway?" NIc had asked then, looking around. No one had taken note of the Pyronite's departure.

"He must've left to get ready," Adriaan had suggested, unbuckling her utility belt ––– lightsaber still attached ––– and handing it to Wolf, who had then silently strapped it around his own waist. Odder still, Adriaan had then bent down, picked up what looked to be just an ordinary gray pebble, and had placed it in her tunic pocket. Not much later, she had left the camp, striding solitarily down the steep canyon path that led to the base. The Pyronite and the shapeshifter had seemingly departed also, for they were not among the members of the group remaining at the campsite.

So there they were now ––– the Wicked Club minus six ––– roaming aimlessly about the Republic camp, bored out of their WICKED wits. Marya had set them to the task of oiling the various gadgets brought by the clone squad ––– a chore the Wicked Club had tactfully chosen to neglect, on account of it being more WICKED to sit around and do nothing other than fuss about what a jerk their Master was.

The others had ignored the boys' moaning and groaning for the most part, choosing instead to focus entirely on the cleaning and upgrading of their gear. Some of them had opted to try on some of the armor and kit they had been lugging all over Umbria. Aedan and his men hadn't seen the point in it yet of dragging ungainly and no doubt useless impedimenta over an entire planet's surface, except maybe as an added challenge in an endurance exercise.

Soon, even Aedan had tired of one of his favorite pastimes ––– whining ––– so he and his cohorts had resorted to sitting on the ground, utterly dejected. They were so uncharacteristically quiet that the others seemed to forget that they were even there. Kan, who had been supposed to keep an on eye the boys, had gone off to switch his ragged, blood-and-sweat-stained tunic into some light scout armor.

The Wicked King looked around. Everyone was busy at the moment, concentrating on getting ready for the siege. No one was watching the punk Padawans. Now was their chance.

Aedan nudged Andre, who nudged Nic, who nudged Andre, who nudged Aedan, who nudged Andre, who nudged Nic, who nudged Andre, who nudged Aedan, who nudged Andre, who nudged Nic, who nudged Andre, who nudged Aedan, who finally gave up and whispered, "Up, GOODS. We go."

"WICKED!" his companions tactlessly shouted, euphorically jumping up in unison. "W-W-W-I-I-I-C-C-C-K-K-K-E-E-E-D-D-D!!!"

Wolf, Jys, Lance, and Drag looked up briefly from their work to see what was causing all the commotion. Shooting a murderous look at his contrite companions, Aedan endeavored a convivial grin in the clone troopers' direction. The clones continued to stare at them.

He shoved his elbows into Andre and Nic, who took the hint and joined Aedan in his efforts to smile innocuously at the soldiers.

It worked. Used to seeing the Wicked Club's odd capers, the troopers wasted no time getting back to work. Breathing sighs of relief, the three youths turned and walked as casually as they possibly could out of the camp. When they were out of earshot, they threw all caution to the wind and started to sprint down the path their Master had marched not twenty minutes before.

"WICKED!" Nic screamed.

"WICKEDER!" Andre yelled.

"WICKEDEST!" Aedan shrieked.

"Look out below, GOODS! The WICKEDS are coming!" they shouted as one.


	19. Garbage Chute Escape Part 1

**_Su'cuy, _all! Welcome to Chapter 19 of _Behind the Mask! _As usual, your reviews are welcome. I'm sure most of you reading this have seen _A New Hope, _so no doubt you will notice this chapter is a tribute to the garbage chute escape from Episode IV. Hope you guys like this!**

**Disclaimer: I am not the genius who created _Star Wars. _**

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Chapter 19

Adriaan joined the list of prisoners at the Umbria base. It was really rather simple to get into the station, Adriaan reflected as she was marched through the deactivated scan gate. All she had had to do was surrender herself at the perimeter checkpoint. This was a trick her Master had taught her: the best way to get into a building was by walking through the front door. She had found this advice helpful on many occasions. The young Jedi could only hope that her old Master's wisdom would not fail her here. For if she did not succeed, twelve brave, innocent young people would die that day.

"Get moving, prisoner," one of the battle droids said, jamming its blaster rifle into the small of her back. The teenaged warrior thought seriously about turning around and snapping the robot's head off for its uncourteous disposition, but then remembered the mission. She had to play the part of a docile captive. The damsel in distress. In other words, not like herself at all.

She passed through the second security gate without incident, other than another rude shove from the battle droids flanking her. What was up with the tinnies being so grouchy today? They definitely needed reprogramming.

She was stopped as a security droid ran a scanner across her body, checking for anything that could be possibly construed as a weapon. It found nothing; the guards at the perimeter had done a thorough job of frisking her. Not that she had brought much kit to start out with. She hadn't wanted to make her escape more complicated by having to find a way to get costly, recherché weapons back, but she also didn't want to make the CIS suspicious by arriving unarmed, so she had carried a couple of stun darts, a holdout blaster, and an old hunting rifle that the squad had been able to spare. As for her lightsaber, she had left it at camp; she definitely couldn't afford to lose that.

She moved past the last checkpoint and inwardly cringed as she heard double durasteel doors slam behind her. Well, she made it inside. Unarmed, but she was inside. Next she had to locate and contrive a strategy to free her companions; a task that was not going to be considerably hard, since the battle droids were no doubt leading her straight to the detention blocks.

Her fist closed around the hard lump that rested in her tunic pocket. The only thing the droids hadn't confiscated ––– a pebble. Hardly a threat…or so they thought.

A vicious-looking flea landed on the exposed skin of her forearm and savagely chomped on a good-sized chunk of her dermis. Adriaan, who was handcuffed, dove for the irksome creature with her bared teeth. The piquing bug dodged her nimbly and hovered tauntingly just out of her reach. Adriaan glared at the insect as she was pushed through a narrow hallway that sloped steeply downward. The flea landed on her and bit again, the droids kept brutally hustling her, and she was getting more fed up with her plan by the second. Next time, she would send someone else to do the dirty work.

The inner design of the base was simple; the Separatists were utilitarian and didn't have an eye for striking architecture. They were interested in buildings that enhanced efficiency and convenience. Because of this, it was fairly easy to memorize the schematics of the station just by walking through the main hallways. By the time Adriaan was shoved inside the turbolift that took her and her droid escorts down to the detention level, she pretty much knew where all the key target points would be situated. Now she just had to relay this Intel to the squad, and to do this, she needed a comlink.

The CIS had confiscated her wrist link, but luckily she had had a backup bead comlink installed in her ear. Due to the upgrade Nano had given it, the device hadn't been detected by the station scanners. She could communicate clearly to the person on the other end just by whispering. It was a neat little gadget that was much more convenient than her regular comlink. As a bonus, it was a completely handsfree device ––– to cut the communication, all she had to do was click her back teeth together twice. Which could be very useful when your hands were cuffed behind your back.

"_Mil weez joto ne dimiix?_" Adriaan whispered in Bocce. Translated into Basic, all she said was "Can you send a pilot to guide me in?" but that was just gibberish. Kan, who was fluent in Bocce, would be able to translate the phrase into Basic and pass it on to Wolf, who would convert the words into the proper command, which was "All set. Key Points located. Wait for signal to move in."

"_Yezzo._" No code to crack there; "_Yezzo" _was Bocce for "Affirmative" Now Marya and the boys on the Quick Reaction Force could just sit back and wait for Adriaan to rescue the prisoners, capture the command center, relay the blueprints of the station interior to the members of the team, and deactivate the scan gate for squad entry. If only that was going to be as simple as it sounded.

The smell of freshly lubricated droid parts packed too closely together in one room assaulted her olfactory senses. Adriaan tried without much success to plug her nose as she was led into the detention center, which was filled to bursting with SBDS and ––– better yet ––– rollies. Translation for Padawans inexperienced with GAR jargon: it was packed with Super Battle droids and droidekas. In other words, not the best prison to be rescuing twelve prisoners from. Nevertheless, it had to be done.

The yellow-marked battle droid commander looked up from the console as Adriaan's escort approached. "State your objective," it rasped.

"Prisoner consign."

The commander ran the request through the station databanks. "Affirmative. Transfer report to the station archives."

Adriaan's escort transferred the information of Adriaan's arrest into the computer database. The console beeped in confirmation as it finished processing the data.

The yellow droid then sent in a security probe, who gave Adriaan a retinal scan and logged in the results to the database. The commander then uploaded Adriaan's cell and prisoner number.

"Take prisoner 13 to cell 94."

"Roger roger."

Adriaan was shoved roughly in the direction of the detention cells. Stumbling forward, she winced as the pebble in her pocket jabbed painfully into her ribs. _Stupid rock, _she fumed. The pestilential flea bit her forearm. _Dumb bug, _she thought. The droids shoved her again.

"Who pissed in your power supply?" she asked, exasperated.

"No talking," an SBD said, cocking its dual laser cannon.

Adriaan decided to keep her mouth closed after that.

She was walking down the detention aisles now. It was a long trek down the hall to cell 94. As Adriaan passed the other cells, she took note of the ones that showed the occupied sign over the door. Twelve. All MIAs accounted for, then.

Suddenly the group halted at cell 37. There was the sound of a comm system crackling overhead. Adriaan felt something cold trickle down her spine. This could not be good.

"Take prisoner 13 to level twenty-seven. Repeat: do not transfer prisoner 13 to cell 94. GG RPC."

GG RPC? Did that mean what Adriaan thought it meant? General Grievous Requests Pleasure of Company? Of whose company?

It hit her brain almost immediately. He was sarcastically requesting the pleasure of _her _company. She was wanted at the command center. Apparently, General Grievous had discovered her identity as a GAR general and wanted to see her now.

Unfortunately, Adriaan's reply would have to be MRU ––– Much Regret Unable. The plan wasn't for her to appear before the CIS General as his prisoner. She knew that she would have to face Grievous eventually, but she had a higher priority. The Padawans and clones that had gone MIA needed to be broken out _now. _ Any one of them could be under interrogation at this minute. She couldn't run risk their lives for the sake of kicking some cyborg General right in his metal exhaust port.

She clicked her back teeth together twice to open the comlink channel. "_Blapdoz,_" she said, giving the signal for the QRF to move in. Then she withdrew the stone from her pocket and chucked it at the closest battle droid.

Several things happened after that one trivial movement. First, Adriaan ducked down, pulled her left knee tight into her chest, and released her leg in a whiplike motion, hook-kicking a battle droid right off its feet and sending it careening into the droid directly behind it. As the two robots were plunging to the floor, the pebble hit another tinnie right in the middle of its control panel. At the moment of contact, the stone liquidated and began to spread over the plasteel like an oozing, orangish-red mold. Unfortunately for the droid, the stone was something much worse than a strange-colored mildew. It kept on expanding ––– melting the droid to scrap in the process ––– and slowly coagulating into a humanoid shape.

Heatrian.

Three droids down, seven more to go. Adriaan and Heatrian were outnumbered, but the droids were still recovering from the unexpected attack. Also ––– unfortunately for the CIS ––– there was another, extremely unpleasant surprise heading their way.

When Adriaan had kicked out at her captors, the bloodthirsty flea had stopped chewing on her arm and had simply hovered in the middle of the room, watching with great interest as the disguised Pyronite had melted down a battle droid in a matter of seconds. As the droids finished processing the fact that Adriaan was attempting to escape, the fly suddenly dropped to the floor and underwent a hideous transformation.

Adriaan was actually rather astonished the droids' circuits did not overload at the sight of a harmless fly transforming into a savage nexu right before their eye sensors, but she was constantly underestimating the capacity of battle droid programming. In any case, the combination of attacks from a Jedi, a walking heap of lava, and a ferocious wild beast was more than enough to obliterate the droid squad. As nexu-Klamin ripped up the last robot into plasteel filings, Heatrian surged toward Adriaan and wasted no time in melting through her stun-cuffs. Freed at last, she leaped for the closest detention cell and pressed the button that opened up the door.

Kay Lee immediately popped out of her prison, reddish-blond hair flying in all directions as she collided into her rescuer and nearly knocked Adriaan to the floor. However, the General caught herself in time, and it was just as well, for the droids at the prison CP had taken notice of the prison break and were now pouring down the detention block, blasters spitting red streaks of fire. The girls nimbly dodged the blasts, while the two aliens took on the unassuming forms of a fly and a pebble. Kay Lee kicked the pebble down to cell 76, and Adriaan batted the bug towards cell 40. Adriaan made sure to swat fly-Klamin extra hard, to make up for the five bug-bites on her arm.

The teenagers dove for the walls and dropped to the floor for maximum cover. In the dim light of the cell banks, Kay Lee's lively brown eyes glowed with an intense light.

"Where's my lightsaber?" she demanded of her Master.

"I don't know!" Adriaan shouted over the noise of the blasterfire. It was beginning to get hot in there as the durasteel walls warmed up from the ricocheting blaster bolts. "Shouldn't you be the one responsible for it?"

"It was confiscated, duh. Just never mind, I'll find it later; at least we have yours."

Adriaan fidgeted uncomfortably. "Um, actually, my lightsaber is currently unavailable."

Kay Lee's voice rose to a screaming pitch. "You mean you lost yours, too?!"

"No, not lost it," Adriaan said. "I gave it to Wolf."

"You gave it to _Wolf?!_" Kay Lee was really beginning to panic now. "What do you think today is? His birthday or something?"

"It's just part of the plan!" Adriaan roared. They were both tense because they were pretty much sitting mynocks in the cramped hallway. Having no lightsabers didn't help, either. "What's the big deal, anyway? It's just a whole garrison filled with tinnies. We'll be fine; we just need to hold them off for a few more minutes."

"Unarmed and trying to find cover in a cell bank as droids slot us as easily as if we were full-grown Hutts? We won't even last for thirty seconds!"

"Then maybe you should just get your choobies back into your cell."

A glaring Kay Lee extended her arm, sending a blaster flying across the hall to land in her hand. Gripping the battle droid weapon tightly, the Padawan shot down the cell bank. The blast hit the owner of the firearm right in the head, and shrapnel from the crumbling droid cut viciously into the enemy ranks. Kay grinned, stabilizing the blaster with both hands, and fired twice, slotting the same number of droids.

It made little difference. The battle droids just kept pouring in, filling the places of the fallen. Kay's smirk quickly melted into a worried frown as she kept up an unremitting barrage of fire, only to find that droids kept coming as fast as she was blasting them down.

"A little help would be nice," the Apprentice hissed to the Jedi Knight, who reached out and acquired a firearm of her own. But as Adriaan joined Kay's valiant efforts in blasting the CIS battalion to pieces, she felt her spirits sink. At this rate, they would be slotting droids for weeks before they would even start to see the lines thinning. Even with the Klamin, Heatrian, and the escapees helping, it would prove well useless.

"What the heck is keeping the Shi'Odo and the Pyronite?" Kay shouted.

"They're breaking the other prisoners out," Adriaan told her. "They'll be along shortly."

Klamin and Heatrian knew that Adriaan and Kay were in trouble, but Adriaan's orders had been very straightforward. They were to ignore any impending danger and just do their job by getting the prisoners out of the cells. Adriaan was supposed to keep the escape route open until everyone was ready to go. Except there was one problem; she was failing to keep the exit pathway clear.

Adriaan quickly activated her bead comlink, which connected her directly to Wolf.

"Sitrep!" she barked.

"Point one K from RV."

"Negative. Shove off. Do you copy? Hold back."

"What's wrong?"

"QCB, target deactivation delayed. NHR; G2G."

"Affirmative. QRF standing by."

There was the sound of static in her ear as Klamin broke into the transmission. "Master, that's all of them. We're on our way to the front."

"Get moving. We're going to have to haul jets."

"Is the escape route clear?"

"We're working on it."

"Oh no," Kay groaned as Adriaan killed the transmission. "You have that look on your face again."

"What look?"

"The look that says, 'Stand back because I'm about to do something really stupid'"

"You're probably right," Adriaan said.

Then she aimed for a grate near cell 36 and fired. The grille blew right open, exposing a long, dark shaft about a meter and a half across. A sickly, nauseating smell crept out of the vent along with the smoke from the blaster bolt.

Kay wrinkled her nose. "Isn't that a garbage chute?"

"Whatever it is, I doubt it's the air conditioning vent." Adriaan fired one last shot down the cell bank and put the blaster on safety. "Ready?"

Kay Lee stared hard. "You can't be serious."

"Oh, I am."

The Padawan opened her mouth to say something, but was cut off by a blaster bolt that went pinging off the wall two centimeters from her face. Kay yelled and blasted the offending droid into scrap metal before putting her firearm on safety and sticking it into her utility belt.

"Hurry up and get in there, before I change my mind!" the Padawan yelled.

Adriaan willed herself to ignore the offending odor of the garbage vent and jumped into the shaft headfirst.


	20. Garbage Chute Escape Part 2

**_Su'cuy! _Hope you guys have been enjoying this! Of course, I don't know if you have been enjoying it or not because no one has reviewed :(**

**Anyway, here's the next part. After you're done reading, you can...well, you-know-what...**

**Disclaimer: I am not the genius who created _Star Wars, _nor did I develop the Mandalorian language and culture. However, most of the characters and some of the creatures and planets are of my own creation.**

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**Chapter 20**

"Y-y-y-y-a-a-a-a-h-h-h-h-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o!!!"

Kay Lee was actually having a blast sliding down the dark, smelly chute, right until the point when she got to the end of the shaft and fell straight down into a pile of muck and filthy water and scrap metal and…other things. She surfaced seconds later, spitting out streams of contaminated fluid and miscellaneous substances that left a gritty, acrid aftertaste on her tongue. She gagged and threw up an instant later as she realized what she had swallowed.

"Shavit!" she spluttered, following her outburst with a string of Huttese cuss words. Somewhere in the semidarkness, she could hear another girl cursing quite fluently in a foreign language Kay couldn't identify.

It took several moments for the girls to recover from the general shock of landing in a pond of excrement. "You are never going to make me jump down a dark tunnel again," Kay Lee told Adriaan, who was smacking her ears to get the water out.

"Sith happens," ell Talaan agreed, pulling out from her hair what disturbingly looked to be an animal intestine and throwing it into the darkness.

Kay Lee perched on a flat durasteel panel, shivering with cold and retching at the vomitous fumes rising up from the murky black liquid. "Can we get out already?"

"We have to wait for the others to get down here first."

Presently, the sound of many heavy objects sliding down the chute were heard. The durasteel shaft shrieked loudly overhead as it disgorged its first passenger.

"Frink!"

The Corellian expletive was followed by a splash as Storm tumbled into the water.

Andora came down shortly after, expressing her shock in a much more sophisticated manner. "Oh my stars!" she said, and then proceeded without much success to clean her sopping wet, ragged tunic.

This was followed by an even louder crash as the six members of the Wicked Club shot out of the vent and cannonballed into the murky liquid, screaming "WICKED!"

"Where's Klamin?" Adriaan asked, when the rest of them had made it down. The Shi'Odo had failed to appear.

Heatrian was about to reply when suddenly a gigantic object hurtled out of the chute and flopped down into the garbage, drenching everyone in a thick, grimy residue. The Shi'Odo rose from the water, lightsaber activated to reveal the massive smirk that stretched across his face.

"Someday, I really am going to kill you," Kay Lee told the impish alien. Klamin shrugged, spitting out a stream of fluid in her direction. Kay wisely decided to keep her distance.

"Well, this is a fine mess; can we get out now?" she pleaded again.

"Yuk! What is that orange goo floating in the water?" Cor asked, pointing.

"Looks tasty," Klamin commented, edging toward the disgusting substance.

"Oh, that's just vomit," Kay Lee said casually. "I threw up."

Klamin gagged, his eyes wide as he hastily backed away.

"This water is freezing my skin," Heatrian complained.

"Boo hoo! It's too bright in here!" Jahn Pal whined.

"It hurts our eyes!" Sai'wer added, shading his face from the imagined glare.

Adriaan was feeling along the magnetically sealed walls. "I found the hatch," she called out.

"Well, open it already," Kay said.

"It's locked."

"Here, allow me," Klamin started forward with his lightsaber, but was stopped by the Pyronite.

"No, WICKEDLY allow _me,_" Heatrian said, baring his magma teeth in a grimace as he prepared to take a bite out of the door.

Adriaan ignored them both. "Kay Lee!"

"Ma'am!" Kay Lee said, on automatic response.

"Come help me get the door open, will you?"

They faced the hatch, shoulder-to-shoulder and in deep attack stances. They threw their arms back in a synchronized motion, accessing the Force at their fingertips. As one, they shot their hands forward, pushing the concentrated energy like a battering ram toward the hatch. There was a loud pop as the door was disengaged from the air lock, and they were blinded by the electric lights flooding the station hallway.

Kay Lee expected to be confronted by a couple of startled sentries ––– or at worst a squad of fully armed Super Battle Droids ––– though her hope was that the chute would open out into a little-used corridor, or even a completely empty shaft. Anyhow, the last thing she expected to see when her eyes adjusted to the glare was a team of twenty-plus SBDs escorting Aedan Kenobi, Nic Modd, and Andre down the hall.

Adriaan and Kay had dislodged the door so quietly that none of the tinnies had registered their presence…yet.

"What the brix…" Kay clamped a hand over her Master's mouth to stifle her exclamation, but her efforts at staying hidden were in vain, for the geniuses of the Wicked Club had caught sight of their monarch.

"Yoo hoo!" Jahn Pal screamed.

"Andora! You have come to rescue us? Thank you!" Sai'wer yelled, waving his arms frantically to get Andora's twin's attention.

Ironically, the person they were attempting to communicate to was the only one who didn't respond to their shouting. As Aedan obliviously continued to walk away from his cohorts, his fellow prisoners and their captors turned around as one and gaped at the people in the garbage compactor.

"WICKED!" Nic and Andre yelled as the SBDs cocked their cannon appendages at the group and began peppering the surrounding walls with laser blasts.

"Boo hoo! Stop shooting at us, Aedan!" Jahn Pal cried.

"Yes! We're on your side!" Sai'wer sobbed.

"WICKED Aedan, turn around!" Heatrian shrieked.

"Get behind us!" Adriaan shouted at the escapees as she, Kay Lee, Klamin, and Heatrian took their positions at the front. While the Shi'Odo and the Pyronite deflected the fire away from the group, Kay and Adriaan shot down the droids with their blasters. Andre and Nic dove to the floor to avoid the ricocheting blaster bolts, and began to crawl steadily away from the battle droids. Meanwhile, the stubborn ruler of the Wicked Club simply continued his straight path down the hall toward the turbolift that would take him to the detention area.

"Moron," Kay muttered.

"Has he gone deaf or something?" Klamin asked.

"Perhaps his mind is in a semiconscious state, ma'am," Comet suggested. "It can happen if someone is hit too hard with a stun baton."

Adriaan stared at the sole retreating figure and sighed. "No," she said. "I think he's just being Aedan."

The SBDs seemed to realize Nic and Andre's intentions to escape, for they had changed position so that they formed a solid durasteel barrier that blocked the boys' exit. Andre leaped on top of a Super Battle droid and flailed his arms wildly to get the team's attention.

"They won't let us out! GOODS!"

"Climb over them!" Adriaan said, but was cut off by a scream as the droid flung Andre off its back and tossed the boy back into the cordoned area.

"Ah, never mind," Adriaan said, wincing.

"I could really use my lightsaber about now," Kay Lee complained.

"Ma'am, we can do more than just sit in a garbage compactor and watch you all get blown to pieces," Storm said.

"Someone needs to get to the command center and deactivate the scan gate for squad entry," Adriaan said. "Any ideas on how we might accomplish that?"

"Blast all these droids and then run for it?" Heatrian suggested.

"That would take too long," Kay Lee said. "Do you have any idea how many droids we'd have to kill? I think we need to avoid hard contact as much as possible if our goal is to make it to the command center in one piece."

"I have some thermals that we can chuck at them," Klamin piped up.

"Are you crazy? In this confined space, you'd blow us up along with them," Adriaan said.

"Well, ma'am, since the kid Aedan is the only one not pinned down, I suppose that all we can do is keep the tinnies distracted while he makes a getaway," Cor said.

"I don't trust Aedan that far," Adriaan said. "He takes too many risks; he'll only get caught."

"I don't think we have much choice."

In answer, Adriaan tossed her blaster over her shoulder and stepped boldly out into the middle of the hallway. Kay Lee immediately caught on to the plan quickly and did the same, ignoring the horrified gasps coming from her companions. The two girls crouched down low and turned sideways, minimizing the space the droids could use as targets, and inhaled slowly, letting the Force build around them. Ever since the day that Adriaan had given her Padawans the synchronized fighting drill, Kay Lee had become especially good at interpreting other people's intentions, even when they did not outwardly communicate with her. It seemed that whenever Adriaan was about to execute something, Kay Lee would know immediately what she was going about. The General suspected that this newly acquired skill would turn out to be one of Kay Lee's special Force talents.

Adriaan and her Padawan sent a super-condensed battering ram of Force energy rocketing toward the group of SBDs. The force of the impact was so powerful it scattered the tinnies like little bits of flimsiplast, leaving the escape route momentarily clear. Taking the opportunity, the group raced out of the garbage compactor and flew down the corridor, leaping over fifteen sprawled clankers. They knew that even though Adriaan and Kay's combined Force push had bought some time, it would only last approximately ten seconds.

The lull in the battle only lasted seven in reality. Super Battle Droids had more advanced programming than the regular B-1 droids, and they were larger and built to last longer. That was why they were so quickly back up on their feet and firing away at the exposed backs of the squad.

"_Hukaat'kama! _Watch my six! Watch my six!" Adriaan yelled at Heatrian and Klamin, who immediately fell back to the rear of the group to deflect the laser fire. Andre and Nic had been freed from the SBD prison and were now running to save their backsides from getting beamed by blasterfire. The two boys ––– who were natural athletes ––– soon caught up to the group.

"What the brix are you guys doing in here?! How did you get in?" Adriaan asked angrily between pants.

"We followed you, of course," Andre said.

"Then we found the GOOD old droid sentries and we decided that the best way to get inside was to get captured, so we turned ourselves in," Nic said proudly, as if they had done something incredibly clever.

"Idiots," Adriaan hissed.

"You did the same thing," Andre protested.

"Well, I distinctly remember giving you three strict orders to stay at camp until the signal was given for QRF to move in. Wait…QRF didn't react without permission, did they?"

"QRF ain't GOODLY here yet," Nic informed her.

"They're on caf break," Andre said happily.

"Well, you boys are gonna find my boot up your exhaust ports if we ever get out of this mess…"

"You mean, _when _we WICKEDLY get out of this mess," Andre said, ever the optimist.

"And you'll never kick _our _butts," Nic added. "Because you're just a GOOD, slow, weak old woman."

The SBDs couldn't move as fast as the squad could on a run, so it wasn't long before the runaways lost sight of the droids. They were fast approaching the turbolift and Aedan Kenobi, who had been stoically marching away from the team the entire time.

"Hey, WICKED Aedan!" Nic yelled.

"WICKED!" Andre shrieked.

"Come on, WICKED, can't you hear us?" Kien asked.

"Aedan!" Terry shouted. "WICKED Aedan! WICK-A-WICK-A-WICK-A-WICK-A-WICKED Aedan!"

It was no use. The imbecile's ears didn't even twitch.

"GOOD man," Minir muttered.

Aedan suddenly whirled around, his bloodshot eyes probing the approaching crowd. "Who GOODLY said that?" he demanded.

"What?" Adriaan asked wearily.

"Who whispered that I was a GOOD?" Aedan asked, glaring through his mop of sweaty, greasy blond hair.

Kay Lee stared at him in disbelief. "We shout till our brains fall out without provoking a signal response from you, but when someone whispers that you're a Good, you suddenly regain your ability to hear?"

"I could hear WICKEDLY well the entire time, thank you very much," Aedan informed them huffily. He turned to his minions. "So! Who dared to challenge my WICKEDNESS?"

"Minir!" Nic shouted enthusiastically.

"Idiot!" Minir hissed at the tattletale as Aedan pummeled him to the ground.

"Okay, reunion's over," Adriaan said. "Let's get this show in the space lane."

They had reached the turbolift. Adriaan glanced quickly at a holoplan of the station that had been conveniently posted right over the lift control panel, found where they were on the map and traced a route from their position to the command center. Level thirty-two. Adriaan tapped in the floor level on the control panel and slid in as the turbolift doors opened. The others crammed into the space, and the turbolift rose, carrying them to their destination.

After two brief minutes, the doors slid open, and a robotic, disembodied voice pleasantly announced that they were on level thirty-two. The Wicked Club members tumbled out of the confined space of the lift, while the others cautiously exited, looking in both directions for any sign of a threat. Surprisingly, there were no battle droids in the vicinity.

"Odd," Klamin said.

"Quiet!" Adriaan snapped.

She consulted a map of level thirty-two on the wall and without a moment's hesitation started in the direction of the command center.

Immediately, the shriek of an alarm deafened their senses. Quick to react, all seventeen simultaneously dove for the floor. They were just in time; three disruptor cannons slid out of the ceiling and covered the space above their heads in a crisscross of red laser beams. Before any of them had a chance to breath a sigh of relief at the close call, twelve droidekas were released from a hatch in the wall and were sent rolling in their direction.

"Cover! Hug the walls, boys!" Adriaan yelled, leaping to her feet and thrusting both hands forward to deflect the impending laser blasts. Besides being a master of storm-manipulation, Adriaan was able to deflect blasterfire with her bare hands, as long as it was coming from one direction. Though it appeared that the laser blasts bounced off the palms of her hands, Adriaan never really touched the fire. The trick was treat the blasts like solid objects ––– once they got too close, she simply created a Force wall in front of her hands that was solid enough to deflect the fire away from her. It required all of her energy and focus, but it beat clinging to the durasteel walls and watching Klamin and Heatrian sweat it out for her.

"_Hukaat'kama!" _Ember shouted. Adriaan, surprised that Ember had caught on to the Mando'a phrase so quickly, turned and barely had time to register the laser blasts coming at her from the opposite direction as a squad of B-2s stepped off the turbolift, catching the escapees on the jump. To Adriaan's dismay, the arrival of the Super droids had effectively cut off Aedan, Minir, Terry, and Kien from the others. Adriaan, Ember, Cor, Storm, Shakir, Klamin, Heatrian, Kay, Nic, Andre, Jahn Pal, Sai'wer and Andora were cordoned by a wall of droidekas and disruptor cannons on one end of the hall, a line of SBDs at the other end, and the sides were lined with thick durasteel panels. They were cut off from escape, but Aedan and his three minions now had a clear route to the command center.

Adriaan had no choice. "Go for it!" she shouted at them. "What are you waiting for?! We can't distract these tinnies all day! Run…aw, sithspit. Cor! Cor!" Aedan, Minir, Terry, and Kien were running their tails off now, but Cor had gotten picked off by an SBD with an attitude problem. Heatrian sliced the clanker into three even pieces while Adriaan dropped onto her belly and crawled toward her wounded soldier. "Cor! Speak to me, kid! Come on, brother, you've got to make it."

She was relieved to find that the clone had only been clipped by laser fire, but it had hit a part of his leg that had not been given the protection of the body armor pieces. Adriaan ripped off the clone's shin guard and knee pads, rolled up the body glove to expose the skin, and slapped an adhesive strip of bacta onto his thigh. Replacing the plates and black glove, Cor was up and shooting like heck into the midst of the battle droids, blasting them with the CIS blaster Adriaan had procured at the detention bloc. The whole operation had taken less than twenty seconds.

Adriaan did a handspring back into the center of the hall as a group of B-1 battle droids came up behind the droidekas to help them out. Adriaan bounded over the destroyers and Force-pulled the E-5 blaster rifles from the B-1 droids' hands, tossing the procured weapons to the unarmed clones and Jedi. As the droidekas slowly shuffled around to shoot her, Adriaan sent a Force wave that knocked them off their feet and sent them rolling into the line of SBDs at the other end of the hall. With the droidekas' deflector shields momentarily deactivated, the clones were able to slot ten out of the twelve before the clankers had a chance to recover. Heatrian and Klamin charged, wiping out the remaining droids with six clean strokes from their lightsabers.

Kay Lee wiped her sleeve across her face to clean off the sweat and grime. Cor stood up carefully and tested his wounded leg, while Ember rubbed his eyes and ran his fingers through his short, thick black hair.

"I hate fighting without my helmet," he muttered. The clone prisoners had had their helmets, chest plates, belt, weapons, and thigh plates confiscated. The only things they were allowed to keep were the white armored shoes, shin guards, and body glove. If they were to be fighting any more battle droids that day, they would need more protection.

And the Jedi would need their lightsabers. Adriaan could Force-deflect, but it was far from being as effective as a lightsaber. Two armed Jedi Padawans just wasn't enough to protect a dozen or so prisoners against a garrison of CIS infantry.

"You can deal without your bucket until we get QRF moving in here," Adriaan told Ember. "The first thing we've got to do is catch up with Aedan and his companions and help them get the command center offline."

"Aren't they capable of doing it themselves?" Klamin asked.

"Did you fail to notice that they were unarmed?"

"Ah. An excellent point."

"But how are we supposed to infiltrate the command center with just a handful of blasters and two armed Jedi Padawans?" Kay asked.

"We'll manage."

Kay sniffed. "I hope that you aren't planning to run around the station unarmed for an indefinite period, 'cause I don't think we're gonna last that long."

"As soon as the command center is offline, we can have a pantry raid," Adriaan promised.

"I still don't understand why we have to go to the command center first…"

"Because," Adriaan said patiently, "I don't know where the heck the CIS stowed all your kit, whereas I do know where the command center is. Besides, we might discover that the droids stashed all your stuff at the command center anyway. Come on."


	21. Stand By for Deactivation

Chapter 21

"Looks good on you, sir," Wolf commented, trying to be civil.

Kan definitely thought the clone scout armor looked awesome, but he wasn't about to admit that he agreed with a mere clone. Adriaan would want him to be courteous and acknowledge Wolf's remark, but Kan didn't want to do what Adriaan wanted him to do, so he scowled, shrugged his shoulders, and turned his attention to his kit. He wasn't used to carrying so many different tools. A conk rifle, a sidearm DC-15, a vibroknife, a liquid-cable, a wrist link with a built-in datapad…the list went on and on. He wasn't even sure if he'd need a single gadget, but everyone else seemed to think all the impedimenta vitally important, so he didn't complain about the load. Anyway, he knew that Vyto, Wolf, Fire, and Vikk had various pieces of a Reciprocating Quad Blaster slung across their backs, and if anything was a cumbersome load, a Cip-Quad certainly was.

"General ell Talaan should have called ten minutes ago," Marya said, adjusting her plastoid chest plate so that it fit snugly across her small, lithe body. "What's taking her so long?"

"She's unarmed, and she has twelve prisoners to look after," Kan said, shrugging.

"At least she doesn't have Aedan in her tow." Marya paused suddenly, her brow knitting into a frown. "Where is Aedan, anyway?"

Kan felt dread spill like cold water down his back. He had forgotten that he was supposed to be watching Aedan, not trying the latest fashions in GAR armor. Pushing down the unsettling feeling that rose up in his gut, he started to walk around the camp, trying to make it look like he wasn't in a hurry. But the panic became clear on his face when after ten minutes of futile searching he could still find no trace of the remaining members of the Wicked Club.

"Aedan!" he yelled, not caring that the CIS station was close by. "Nic! Andre!"

"We've got to find them," Marya said, stepping to Kan's side. "Why weren't you keeping an eye on them?"

"I was, but then I…" Kan was cut off by the Zabrak before he had a chance to finish.

"_Uba inkabunga stoopa koochu. Fierfek uba. Echuta._"

Kan gasped at the last word. What Marya had said was a very strong Huttese expletive; so insultingly obscene that it was highly inappropriate to translate.

"Someday, I'm going to rip your tongue out by the roots, sauté it in Nkllonian lava extract, place it on a silver platter, and force you to eat it," Kan said threateningly.

"Ooh, I'm scared now, nerf-boy."

"Sir. Ma'am. Incoming transmission," Wolf ––– who had tactfully chosen to keep out of the spat between the two headstrong teens ––– said, transferring the signal from the helmet comm to his wrist link. Adriaan's voice popped into the frequency.

"_Mil weez joto ne dimiix."_

"What did she say?" Marya asked.

Kan had taken an advanced Bocce language course during his early Padawan studies, so he well knew what she said. "'Can you send a pilot to guide me in'" Kan translated.

"That makes no sense," Marya argued.

"She's speaking in code. She means that she's located all key targets, and to stand by for the signal to move in," Wolf explained.

"Thanks, professor," Marya and Kan chorused disdainfully. Realizing that they had the same opinions about clone troopers, they turned and glared at each other.

Kan grabbed Wolf's wrist and yanked the comlink out of the unfortunate trooper's hand. "_Yezzo. _Affirmative," he snapped, and closed the link.

"Why didn't you tell her that Aedan, Nic, and Andre are AWOL?" Marya demanded.

"Irrelevant," Kan said, but he could see he hadn't fooled anyone. Missing Padawans wasn't something you neglected to mention to a Jedi Knight. Kan just didn't want to get into any more trouble than he already was.

_You're a bad boy, Kan._

"We can look for them some more while we're waiting for Adriaan to contact us," Kan said, trying to make amends for his apathy towards the Apprentices' safety.

"I'm sorry, sir, but that will just not be possible," Vyto said.

Kan stared. "Excuse me?"

"We need to get moving down to the valley," Comet said, shouldering his pack. "It's about half a klick to the gate ––– by the time we get down there, the General will have the scan gate deactivated, so we can have immediate entry."

"But we need to find Aedan…"

"Frip, are you dense," Marya said. Her mouth was having swearing issues that day. "If those three fools ran off, where do you think they went? Off to dig a hole to use as a latrine? I don't think so. "

"If I remember correctly, they were very upset at the General refusing to take them with her to the station," Wolf added.

Now it made sense. "So we might catch up to them on our way down?"

"Holy sithspit, the kid has a brain, after all," Marya said, mockingly raising her arms to the heavens in awe.

* * * * *

Aedan skidded to a halt, flying off his feet as his three companions knocked into him, unable to slow down in time. The boys picked themselves up and stared.

"Is this the WICKED control center?" Terry asked.

"It must be, idiot, since this is the only room we've seen that is protected by ray shields," Minir griped.

"WICKED strategist!" Aedan barked, startling Kien out of his daydreaming.

The dirty youth straightened, startled, and looked around drowsily. "What, WICKED?"

"Strategize!"

Kien stared lethargically at the cloud of fleas that always hovered around his head. "What does that mean?"

Minir slapped his hand to his forehead and groaned.

"You're the WICKED strategist, and you can't even tell us what the word 'strategize' means?!" he hissed. "You are so GOOD."

"I'm not GOOD! I'm just stupid!" Kien shouted, losing his temper, which was a rare occurrence.

"Calm down, GOODS," Terry said. "If the WICKED strategist's brain has been sucked dry, we'll just have to find someone else to think up the plan."

Aedan, Terry, and Kien stared expectantly at Minir.

_Morons, _the comedian thought. "Okay, let's take a look at the situation. We're unarmed, right?"

"WICKEDLY right," the others chorused.

"And we have to get into that room, yes?"

"WICKEDLY yes!"

"And that particularly GOOD room is ray shielded, correct?"

"WICKEDLY correct!"

"And without any weapons, and without the proper pass code, we can't bypass the ray shields, right?"

"YES!" the others screamed.

"So why don't we all just WICKEDLY give up and go take a nap?" Minir finished, and started to stomp off.

_Hah! Got them there, yes I did, _Minir chuckled to himself. He hadn't gone ten steps, though, before he was tackled to the floor by Aedan.

"Why don't you try that again, WICKED?" Aedan hissed in Minir's ear, putting him in a headlock.

Minir felt Aedan's surprisingly powerful arms slowly tighten around his scrawny neck, and began to squirm. "All right! Try the ventilation ducts overhead!" he gasped out.

"Thank you, my WICKED," Aedan said sweetly, dropping Minir onto the floor and running up to the wall. He spat onto his palms and rubbed his hands together, then sprang up and climbed the smooth, vertical surface with surprising agility. Reaching the ventilation grate, he punched the shaft open with a quick two-legged sidekick as he let go and did a lazy backflip to the ground. Smirking egotistically at his own accomplishment, Aedan leaped up into the shaft and gestured impatiently for the others to follow.

"Come, my GOODS," he whispered from the darkness of the vent. "No time to waste."

The shaft was drafty, somewhat narrow, and the air blowing through it was very chilly, but the Wicked Club didn't mind. They were all pumped up with adrenaline, and they knew that they would be in a battle soon, so they ignored their discomfort for the time being. Slithering through the pitch-black shaft, the boys were silent…theoretically, that is.

"Get your rear-end out of my face, Terry," Minir hissed. "It stinks like a dead worrt frog."

"What's it WICKEDLY _supposed _to smell like? Flowers?" Terry whispered back.

Minir gasped and coughed as a puff of warm air hit him in the face. "Ugh! What smells like rotten eggs?"

"Oops, that was me," Terry said.

"I think it smells WICKED, Terry," Kien piped up enthusiastically from below Minir.

"You would," Minir mumbled, shoving his foot into Kien's mouth.

"Shut up!" Aedan hissed. "We're WICKEDLY almost inside."

Sure enough, a faint light gleamed from up ahead. As they approached, they discovered that the glow came from a grate that opened out into a room. Aedan stuck his nose into the grate to see what was below them, then quickly jerked his head back, his eyes shining.

"_Below us." _He mouthed at his cohorts.

Four sets of teeth glittered pale white in the darkness as the boys grinned with eager anticipation.

"On WICKED," Aedan breathed. He held up one finger. Then two.

Three. "WICKED!" Aedan screamed, punching open the grate and dropping into the command center below. His minions followed one after the other, landing right in the midst of a squad of SBDs.

Minir realized a little too late that they had just jumped into an extremely precarious situation without a single weapon to defend themselves with. He had no time for regrets, however, because just then a super battle droid decided that Terry's gigantic head would make an excellent target and aimed its weapon arm between the boy's eyes.

"Duck!" Minir screamed, knocking his friend to the floor microseconds before Terry's head was blown off by the laser cannon. Minir rolled off the boy and leaped to his feet, Force-pulling a rack of SR combat pistols toward him. Picking up a firearm in each hand, he tossed the remainder of the SE-14s to his three companions, who joined him in blasting down the droids that surrounded them.

Aedan, in a rare display of intelligence, moved steadily backward until he found cover behind one of the computer consoles. Kien flipped in the air and did a straddle kick into two droids, knocking them into two others. Using the Force, he and Terry threw the fallen battle droids into their companions, providing enough time to make their escape to the shelter of the rows of desks. Minir himself took cover behind a chair, periodically thrusting his gun over the headrest to fire at battle droids that were getting too close. Even as the boys kept the CIS at bay, their eyes were roving around the room, searching for the controls that would shut off the scan gate.

"Turrets! Make 'em croak!" Aedan shrieked. Minir turned just in time to see the security turrets sliding out from panels in the ceiling. They rotated around the room, trying to get a fix on the boys. Aedan and his companions leaped up and without any hesitation charged toward the turrets just as they began to fire. Deftly dodging the blaster bolts, Aedan Force-jumped onto a chair and leaped onto the wall. Using the momentum from his second jump, he propelled himself away from the wall and up to the ceiling. Taking aim with a blaster in each arm, he fired at two turrets and landed safely back on the ground just as they exploded in a shower of sparks.

Smirking at his accomplishment, Aedan watched as the rest of his team destroyed the last two turrets with significantly less flashy moves. Totally psyched from the battle, the four boys swiftly demolished the pitiful remainder of the command center security.

Aedan hauled a fallen SBD from the console, examining the controls. "Okay, now all we have to WICKEDLY do is find the switch that deactivates the scan gate."

"Is it this button?" Terry asked, pointing at a large red dot on a computer keyboard.

"I don't know; what does the button WICKEDLY say?" Aedan asked impatiently, continuing to scan the rows of controls.

"How should I know? I'm illiterate."

Minir suddenly decided to play the helpful, accommodating sidekick by coming over to take a look at the button. "I think this is WICKEDLY it," he called to Aedan. "Moron," he muttered to Terry, who shrugged sheepishly.

"Well, press it, you GOOD!" Aedan shouted ungratefully, flinging himself into a hard plastoid chair.

"You're welcome," Minir grumbled, punching the button. He stood back, looking a little anxious as he waited for the results. Kien found the controls for the security holocams and flicked on the cam that showed a holo-image of the scan gate perimeter outside.

The boys whooped and hollered as the scan gate on the screen shimmered and blipped out of view as it was deactivated.

"WICKED!" Aedan screamed into his wrist link.

"Ow! Aedan, do you mind?" His Master said irritably from the other end of the line.

"You should be thanking me, ungrateful GOOD," Aedan said huffily. "I just deactivated the scan gate all by my WICKED self, with absolutely no help from my GOOD, intellectually challenged associates."

The other three boys glared murderously at him as he closed the link.


	22. QRF Infiltrates Station

**_Su'cuy! _I hope all of you have been enjoying your journey with the Varactyl Clan and Shadow Squad. I've certainly had a wonderful adventure writing these books! As I look back at my original stories, I see how much I've improved in my skills as a writer over the past couple of years. _Ori'vor'e_ to my few reviewers for their support! **

**As usual, I greatly appreciate feedback. Okay, go read and I really hope for some reviews!**

**Disclaimer: I did not create _Star Wars, _nor did I develop the Mandalorian culture, language, et cetera. **

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Chapter 22

General Grievous ––– Kaleesh warrior, Knight Slayer, Droid General of the Confederacy of Independent Systems Army, protégé of Count Dooku ––– was bored. Umbria was an uncharted, lifeless wasteland in the middle of a cosmic catastrophe, so it was no wonder that the Republic hadn't found his secret base yet. At first, having a secluded hideout in the middle of nowhere seemed a good thing for a Separatist general to invest in, especially a general who was constantly on the run from the pesky Jedi. Now Grievous wasn't so sure. Perhaps this time he had made the base _too_ secure.

He passed the time trying to keep in good fighting shape ––– for one never knew when the Jedi would appear ––– but he soon even tired of that. He was stultified out of his wits, and that made him even less good-tempered than usual. He usually vented his frustration by knocking off a few errant battle droids' heads, but lately even that didn't give him much satisfaction. The last battle he had found even slightly enjoyable had happened months ago. It had been a brief bout with the young Togruta Padawan of Anakin Skywalker. She had been a feisty, quick little one, but she had been a mere slip of an adolescent girl that hadn't given him too much trouble. The only thing about the little brat that had impressed Grievous was that she had actually managed to escape his clutches.

He hadn't killed in a long time; his lightsaber-resistant claws were immaculate white now, cleansed from the blood of his victims. What he craved was a _real _challenge.

Therefore, when the battle droid commander had called to inform him that they had captured an unidentified human being that matched a datafile description of the GAR general, Adriaan ell Talaan, Grievous had wanted to see her immediately, remembering his encounter a few years before with a bratty little captive Jedi that had gone by the same name. However, ten minutes later, the commander had called again to alert him that the suspect Jedi had made a prison break. Grievous knew then that things were going to get exciting inside the Umbrian station.

He stood from his chair, switched off the datascreens he had been examining, and keyed in the code for his private vault that opened up to reveal his extensive lightsaber collection. He took the opportunity to gloat over his cache for a moment. It was the only thing he could truly be proud of; his war trophies, from the Jedi he had killed. He had added a few new ones to the collection a couple of days ago. These newer collectibles were slightly smaller than his other lightsaber handles, but that was because they had formerly belonged to the Jedi Padawans that were now being held prisoner in the complex. Grievous selected four weapons ––– two small and two large ––– and placed them in his utility belt as he accessed the door to his room and stepped out into the languorous hallway.

Two dozen lightsabers was a fine collection indeed, but it was only a novice's set. It was time to add some more Jedi weapons to his series.

* * * * *

"That was Aedan," Adriaan said as she switched off her comlink. She stopped running, and the group came to a standstill also. They hadn't bothered to discontinue moving toward the command center when Adriaan had had to take the call, so if they had halted now, there must have been a change in plans.

"He deactivated the scan gate, and he's cleared the center; the control room is now officially in Republic control," Adriaan reported. "I'm giving the signal for QRF to move in."

She sent the message to Wolf's HUD and then continued, "Aedan said there isn't any hidden cache of stolen weapons inside the command center, and since he's gotten rid of the control room security and changed the code on the ray shield doors, I really don't see any reason why we should continue on to the command center. What do you think?"

"Sounds great, but where are we going to go now, ma'am?" Storm inquired.

"To find our weapons," Adriaan said, "rendezvous with QRF, and to drop by and give our generous host a proper Shadow Squad greeting."

"As long as Grievous'll be serving refreshments, I'm in," Cor said, rubbing his damaged leg.

"Shakir," Adriaan addressed the squad's tactician as she tossed him a datapad. "I have a copy of the station holo-plan on this datapad. Key in a search for GG's headquarters. I have a feeling that all your confiscated weapons will be found in his room; he does, after all, take weapons from his fallen enemies as war trophies."

"Yes, ma'am." As Shakir directed his attention to the datapad, Adriaan tapped back in to her bead comlink and contacted Wolf.

"QRF, sitrep."

"Through scan gate. Preparing to storm security level."

"ETA?"

"Oh seven one five, not counting enemy contact."

"That is inevitable with the route you are taking. Shakir, sorry, can you give me back my datapad for a sec?"

She scrutinized the station schematics. "Ah, yes. This could work."

"Ma'am?"

"Are you all equipped with jetpacks?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Very good; you'll need them to scale this gigantic sphere. Anyway, according to this plan, the station's hull is not entirely smooth. There are several ventilation ducts jutting out from the shell. If you can knock out one of the grates with some ribbon charges, you can climb into the shaft and make your way to the RV point."

"Where's the RV, ma'am?"

"Shakir will find it in a second, sir." Adriaan returned the pad to the clone and kept the link open.

After two minutes, Shakir found the room. "Level two-seven, room one-four-five."

"Copy, QRF?" Adriaan inquired.

"I copy, General. We're on our way."

* * * * *

"Initiating jetpack launch. Go go go! Watch your six, Captain, watch your six!"

Kan whipped around and did a downward swipe at a battle droid that had snuck up on him from behind. He flicked the switch on his scout jetpack and Force-leaped to catch up to his comrades, who were fifty meters above him. He watched how Wolf ––– the designated leader of QRF ––– angled his jetpack thrusters so that he would descend upon the shell of the station. Kan copied the move so that he would land in approximately the same location.

"Point oh three, E-60R, watch it," Comet said.

Kan swerved in midair, grazing the tracking missile that had missed him by millimeters. He watched as the rocket whipped around and followed him.

_Great_.

He rolled and spun, the flames from his jetpack grilling his legs. The missile stayed on target. "It's got a lock on me. I can't shake it," he said, trying to keep his voice from cracking.

"Captain, pull up on my mark," Wolf said. He sounded calm, and that made Kan feel a little better. Unlike his brother, Rez, Wolf was not reckless. He was a practical man. If he wasn't worried about the missile, Kan would be okay.

"Check check check."

Kan checked his flight and couldn't help but close his eyes as the missile prepared for a head-on collision into him.

_BLAM!_

Wolf stuck his DC-17 sidearms back into their holsters and flew off.

"Nice work, Sergeant," another clone said. Kan ––– who hadn't bothered to memorize the ranks of the different members of Shadow Squad ––– assumed that the Sergeant was Wolf.

"Where did that missile come from?" Marya asked.

"Point oh three. Jys, you're closest. SOP," Wolf said.

"Yes, Sarge," Jys said, hefting his Plex and pointed it in the direction of where the rocket had come from. Kan could just barely see the small black dot. He wondered how Jys could possibly hit the droid, even with a rangefinder. It looked like an impossible shot to Kan.

Jys lined up the target in the crosshairs, sucking air into his lungs through his nostrils ––– Kan could hear everything from the comlink hooked up to his ear –––– and then exhaling slowly. He pulled the trigger.

The black dot flashed red, then disappeared.

"Well, we won't be seeing him again," Jys said, sounding modestly pleased at his accomplishment.

"Touchdown," a clone with red markings on his armor said as he landed on the station shell. Kan recalled that he was a member of the Demolition group ––– a clone called Drag. "Ah, how generous of the Seppies."

"What, did they leave the shaft wide open?" Jys said.

"No, but they might as well have. They cut corners in construction; you gotta love the way the Seppers think: build humongous things as fast and as cheaply as you can. The fact is they practically left a doorstep right in front of this grate. It makes me feel so welcome."

"Stop admiring the paintwork on the door, Drag, and slap some hatch persuader on it," Wolf said.

"Hatch persuader?" Marya inquired.

"Military euphemism," Drag explained. "Aw, they didn't install a doorbell. Tut tut. Guess I'll just have to knock." The clone took out a roll of what looked ––– oddly enough ––– like thick orange tape. To Marya's and Kan's further amazement, he pressed the adhesive stips around the grating.

"What in the blue blazes are you doing? The CIS isn't going to pay you for festooning an air conditioning vent with bright orange ribbons," Marya said.

"Oh, this isn't just decorative tape, ma'am. This is what the RCs call hatch persuader."

Kan and Marya had no idea what an RC was, and that fact only served to pique their curiosity about the tape.

Drag finished binding the strips to the edges of the grid and powered on his jetpack, zooming away from the hatch. There was an ear-shattering roar as a fire briefly erupted from the shaft opening. Then it was over; the smoke cleared, exposing the yawning hole where the grille used to be.

"I love military euphemisms," Drag commented. "Hatch persuader, hah. More like adhesive strips of instantaneous combustion."

"Wonderful stuff, that lovely neon orange thermal detonator tape," Fyre agreed, dropping into the open shaft, right after Wolf.

The seventeen members of the Quick Reaction Force moved through the ventilation duct quickly, the Jedi Padawans relying on the Force and the clones ––– and Darc –––– referring to the readouts on their HUDS to find the way. Chun-be, fully suited in standard-issue, eggshell-white trooper armor, was now almost completely identical to the clones. Much to everyone's relief, Darc hadn't spoken more than ten words since he had warned Adriaan of his group's capture. Perhaps he realized the seriousness of the situation.

_ More likely, he's scared enough to wet his pants, _Kan thought to himself with a grin.

"Hey, Sarge!" Darc said over the comlink. "If I don't get killed on this run, do I get to keep the white stuff?"

"Not on your life," Vikk said, speaking for Wolf. "That 'white stuff' is part of Cor's armor collection that he keeps stuffed in his locker, and he's rather attached to the particular suit you're wearing."

"In fact, he'll probably kill us if he finds out we even let you touch it, let alone wear it," Tau added.

"So be really careful with it, all right?" Delta said, playfully thunking Darc's chestplate with the sole of his extremely muddy boot.

"Can I at least keep the helmet?" the ex-Jedi persisted. So much for being too scared to talk; Darc was either a very good actor, or he was really as cool and confident as he sounded.

"No," Wolf said laconically.

"Aw, come on, I've got to be motivated to stay alive somehow…"

"Okay: if you're a really good boy on this trip, I won't spank you as hard as I am planning to once this is all over," Wolf said. "Is that enough motivation for you?"

"Yes, sir, I will do my very best to behave," Darc said meekly, inciting laughter all around.

"Master, do you copy? We've penetrated the outer defenses," Marya barked into her comlink, frowning in disapproval at the gung-ho, upbeat moods of her companions.

Adriaan's link went online almost immediately. "That was fast."

"We're called Quick Reaction Force for a reason."

" Where are you now?"

"In a ventilation duct, level twenty-one, copy, two-one," Wolf said.

"We're on level two-seven. Listen, according to the station schematics, there's a main vertical shaft that connects all the vents in the station. If you can find it, take it up until you reach the sixth adjacent shaft perpendicular to the main duct. If it doesn't take you directly to level two-seven, it'll at the very least get you closer to the RV point without risking the hallways, which should be filling up with clankers any second now. We're at the RV and kitting up now, so we should be ready to go once you get here. Do you copy?"

"I copy, General. QRF over and out." Marya shut off the link.

"Ma'am, I believe I'm under the main shaft now," Wolf called, shining his dual helmet flashlights upward, revealing a slightly larger vent overhead.

"Let's try it," Onor said, totally ready to go.

But Kan stared at it doubtfully. If only the duct had been about half a meter wider than the one they were currently in, the task of going up it would have been easier. As it was, the vent looked way too narrow for any of them to make their way up by bridging.

"It's too confined," Kan said, hoping that he didn't sound like a sissy. "It's only a few centimeters bigger than this shaft, and we're going to need at least half a meter of extra space for if we're going to use our arms and legs to bridge up six levels."

Lance's gauntleted hand went to the switch that started his jetpack. "We're not going to bridge up six levels."

Marya began to look scared, too. "Are you sure that using a jetpack in an air-conditioning vent is safe?"

Wolf's hand was by the button on his jetpack, too. "I've never tried it before. I've never done anything that's been very safe, anyway."

"You've lived a full life," Brannd joked.

Wolf snorted. "Eight years; are you kidding me?"

"Ah, well, only heroes die young," Skipp said. "Anyway, if we make it, it'll be something for us to brag about to the poor grunts back home."

Marya was still doubtful. "You know, whoever is behind you is just going to get incinerated by the flames from your jetpack."

"Then don't tailgate me."

"And you think Aedan is insane?"

Sergeant Wolf flicked the switch and used his knees to push off the bottom of the duct, angling himself so that he would get launched into the shaft overhead. His head disappeared through the vent, followed by his shoulders, then his torso, legs, and finally his feet. Lance waited silently, then edged forward carefully so that he was directly underneath the vent. He looked up, gave the others a thumbs-up, and then he was gone, too.

Kan was after a clone with navy blue markings, the color of the naval officer uniforms.

"Up you go, Skipp," Wolf said by comlink. Not the private link he only shared with his brothers' helmets, but the one that connected to the Jedi's wrist links as well. Despite his biased opinion of clone troopers being little better than ruthless organic droids, Kan couldn't help but find this little gesture touching. It was obvious that Wolf was trying very hard to include everyone in the group by keeping all the communications on the Varactyl Clan link.

Sometimes, the clone troopers didn't seem so insensitive and brutal.

_Too bad their host decided to pull a blaster on my Master, otherwise I would find it hard to like these guys. But I can't like them; I can't look at them without being ashamed. For me to be fond of them, I think, would be as wicked as hating them, for to like them would mean to think well of the man who killed Ruru. _

Kan scooted forward and paused a little uncertainly underneath the shaft, gazing upwards while trying to judge the best moment for takeoff. He waited and watched until Skipp's jetpack flames became one dim, faint orange speck in the darkness, and then he, too, launched himself upwards.

It was a completely blind ascent ––– the light emanating from the jetpack fire was too dim and too far below him to be much use ––– and at first it made him feel disconcerted. It took a moment before he had regained control of himself enough to use the Force to help him sense the things around him. The Force could do many things, and Kan was glad that night-vision, in a certain sense, was one of its properties.

He couldn't see any other shafts, but as he passed them, he felt the little currents of air flowing out into the main duct. The flames from his jetpack seared his legs, but aside from that discomfort he felt fine. The five other shafts seemed to fly by in seconds, and it wasn't long before he had reached the last vent and was hauled out by his belt by Wolf.

"That was fun, eh, ma'am?" Lance asked Marya as she appeared about fifteen seconds later.

"Thrilling," Marya muttered, brushing past the clone. Her normally golden-hued skin glowed ghostly white in the glare of Lance's helmet flashlights. "Absolutely thrilling."

"Well, Wolf, you're certainly taking your sweet time getting here," a male's voice said, breaking into the transmission.

"Cor?" Skipp said. "What the heck are you doing with the General's comlink?"

"Is she all right? I'd hate for anything to happen to the poor little freak," Darc said.

"I heard that, vapebait," Adriaan said, accessing the link. "We're in the middle of suiting up, and Cor's just all puerile now because he got his helmet back."

"Don't let him get his hands back on his interchangeable deece, then," Brannd warned. "Because then he'll get blaster-happy and shoot everyone in the complex."

"Okay, I'll try to remember. What's an interchangeable deece?"

"A commando-issued interchangeable weapons system; Ember will show you what it is."

"Whoo-hoo!" someone shrieked over the comm, deafening everyone on the link.

"I thought you said Aedan had locked himself in the command center," Marya said, clapping her hands over her ears.

"That wasn't Aedan, it was our good old gung-ho Captain Ember," Cor explained. "He just got his bucket back on, too."

"Sorry, boys," Ember said, sounding a trifle embarrassed. "I had forgotten how good it feels to get an enhanced field of view back."

"Enhanced field of view? You mean that the helmet expands your peripheral vision?" Kan asked. He had always assumed that wearing a helmet would obstruct his sight, not improve it.

Darc nodded. "Now do you see why I want to keep mine? It's almost like having an extra brain; it has a rangefinder so you can see farther, the HUD gives you an enhanced view, information relevant to the terrain and situation, and a tracker to locate mission objectives;

a built-in comlink, so I don't have to carry an external communications device; and best of all,

night vision enhancements and image intensifiers…"

"Save your breath for when we run," Wolf advised, moving along the shaft to find the grate that opened out into the hallway below them.

"Uh, when are we going to run?" Darc asked anxiously, no doubt remembering the last jog he had taken, in which Adriaan had made him run for so long that he had fainted from exhaustion.

Wolf reached the grate and withdrew his vibroknife, which made a metallic _shing _as he released it from his knuckle plate. "Right about now."

With the tip of the blade, Wolf expertly loosened the screws that held the grille in place and kicked the grate out, opening up the exit. He dropped through the narrow, rectangular hole and motioned impatiently for the others to follow.

Kan jumped out and landed in a hallway that was eerily devoid of enemies. Wolf appeared to be scrutinizing a holoplan posted on the wall, although now that Kan knew that the HUD on the clone's helmet allowed him to see almost everything around him, Wolf could've been looking at anything.

"General ell Talaan's Intel was good; we've landed right on level twenty-seven," Sergeant Wolf said, sounding satisfied. "Now we have to find the room where they're kitting up in."

"Invader to QRF: we're done. Where are you?" Adriaan inquired.

"Hall 27A1, near E-3174."

"Stand by; we'll meet you there."

General ell Talaan's group appeared moments later, tearing down the corridor at breakneck speed. All of them had been rearmed, and some of the Jedi were even carrying blasters on their belts. Kay Lee, hardly looking like a prisoner on the run, slapped Kan on the back and gave Marya a good-natured wink in greeting.

"Nice to see that you're all still alive," she said. "Hey, where's –––"

"Your beloved Darc Chun-be? He has come, my dear damsel in distress," Darc said, removing his helmet simpering at her.

"Hey, who let you wear my armor?" Cor demanded, adjusting the plate that covered his left thigh. He seemed to be favoring that leg a little bit.

"Wolf did," Darc said.

Wolf stared. "Hey, what did I ever do to you?"

"Threaten to spank me."

"Hey, I threatened to do that, too, and you aren't trying to get back at me!" Kay Lee pointed out.

"That is because I have a crush on you."

Kay Lee looked as if she were about to throw up.

"Oh, here you are, ma'am," Wolf said, unclipping Adriaan's lightsaber from his belt and handing it to her. "Unless you need me to carry it for a little bit longer…" he added hopefully.

"Don't fall for it, General," Jys said. "Wolf's been itching to use your lightsaber ever since you handed it to him; I saw him drooling all over the hilt when we ran into some battle droids back at the perimeter."

"My birthday's coming up, you know…" Wolf persisted.

Adriaan grinned, holding her lightsaber away from the clone. "Maybe when you're older," she said teasingly. The General's gaze swiveled to the rest of her men. "Ah, brought the good old Cip-Quad, did you?" She indicated the various pieces of the weapon slung on the clone troopers' backs. "How did you ever manage to drag those through the ventilation ducts?"

"Those things don't come cheap," Ember pointed out. "I don't think any of us would have had the heart to throw it away."

"Well, since Ammo is suited in the heavy gunner armor, we can set it up now and strap it onto him," Adriaan said.

"Wouldn't that slow us down?" Kay Lee asked. The Cip-Quad had its uses, but it was such a cumbersome machine that whoever manned it required repulsor-lift assist.

"We're not getting out of here any time soon, I'm afraid. We have already completed the first part of the mission, now I must carry out the main objective," Adriaan said. "Remember why the Jedi Council sent us here? The command center is offline; the complex is in lockdown, so General Grievous can't escape or call for backup. Now is the time engage him."

"Is he even here?" Klamin asked.

"None of us have seen him," Kay Lee said, referring to her fellow escapees. "Once we were captured, we were pretty much left to rot in our cells, which was sort of odd; wouldn't they have wanted to interrogate us? It was obvious that we were members of the GAR."

"Even stranger, the battle droids started to put me in prison, then stopped when they were commanded to bring me directly to a room on this level," Adriaan said. "If I recall correctly, the orders were 'GG RPC'"

"'GG'? General Grievous?"

"It could be anyone," Klamin objected. "For example, General Grandiose, Gargantuan Gorg, Grumpy Grouch, Great Grandma…"

"Do you sense him with your Jedi Force radar?" Cor asked.

"Oh, I've sensed him ever since we landed on this godforsaken rock," Adriaan replied. "Furthermore, I found evidence in the base commander's quarters that Grievous is, indeed, the commanding officer of this station. Take a look." She pulled out a strange, bone-white faceplate from her survival pack. "This is a Kaleesh battle-mask, carved from mumuu bones. The Grievous I met a few years ago wore a similar face covering."

"Interesting." Cor took it almost reverently, cradling it in his arms as he appraised it. "This just gave me an idea for a paint design for my new armor."

"And who says you're going to get a new set of armor, _ner vod?"_ Adriaan asked, shoving the clone playfully. "_Ner vod ––– _my brother," she explained to the confused faces around her.

"Okay, so we're fairly certain that our target is in this station," Wolf said. "That's one less thing I have to worry about. General, did you manage to procure anything useful?'

"Other than all of our armor and kit, which our cyborg host had so thoughtfully stashed in one easily accessible location," Cor pointed out.

"That is to say, it was simple to get our stuff back, once we had figured out the proper passcode to override the security lock that protected his stash of lightsabers," Adriaan amended.

"And man, did he ever have a hoard of war souvenirs," Kay Lee said. "How many Padawan braids did you count?"

"At least a dozen, but there were even more lightsabers, some I recognized as belonging to Jedi who were reported as KIA at the battle of Geonosis," Adriaan answered.

"That means that Grievous has been in action since the very beginning of the war," Kay realized.

"Notwithstanding, there were some artifacts unaccounted for from his hoary series," Andora said.

"Thank you for reminding me, Padawan; Aedan's and Minir's lightsabers were the two we couldn't find. Grievous is probably carrying those lightsabers right now. While it is not imperative that we retrieve those weapons, we still need to rearm the squad that is at the command center."

Adriaan pulled out her comlink and contacted Aedan. "Aedan, do you copy? This is Adriaan ell Talaan. I'm sending you backup. Aedan? Come in, Aedan! You should be contactable at all times. Where are you?"

She finally gave up and left a message instead. "Let's hope he bothers to check his comlink for messages," she remarked. "All right, let's see who we've got. Andora, Tau, Delta, Vikk, and Brannd, you're Red Squad; make your way up to the command center and defend it until I give the signal to haul jets. Oh, yes, and you'll need these." She tossed them four lightsabers. "I took the liberty of grabbing a couple of extra lightsabers for Aedan and Minir, just in case they don't get their original ones back. Arm yourselves in any way you choose. Just keep your comlinks _open_."

"Acknowledged, ma'am," Andora said.

"Wait, I'm just a little bit confused," Kay Lee said. "If they're going to the command center, what are the rest of us going to be doing?"

"The other twenty-eight of us will be split up into five groups," Adriaan said. "The station is currently in lockdown, so I think this is the perfect opportunity for us to gather some Intel, so that even if we fail in capturing or killing General Grievous, we won't come back to the Jedi Council empty-handed."

"Where exactly are we going to find classified Separatist information? We already searched in Grievous' quarters, and we found nothing," Kay Lee said.

"Actually, we did." Adriaan withdrew a slender datapad from her utility belt. "I copied all the files from his personal computer onto this datapad. Everything's in code, but we can always get someone to crack it once we're off this planet. There weren't very many files, I'm afraid, and this unusual lack of information on the droid General's computer makes me think that there is more information to be found in other areas on this station."

"That brings us back to my first question: where are we going to find the Intel?" Kay Lee asked.

"Almost every battalion in the CIS has their own tactical droid these days. The memory banks of these robots are chock-full of classified Separatist Intel. If you can catch a tactical droid before it triggers cyberostasis, you'll have all latest information on CIS strategies. So this is what I think we should do; four groups will be searching on different levels of the base for a tactical droid; they're fairly distinguishable from the other battle droid models, so you'll know one when you see it. As for the fifth team, it will not be searching for Intel, and will consist of one person."

"And that person would be you, hunting for General Grievous," Kay guessed.

Adriaan looked at her. "I know you'd enjoy taking him on yourself, but I'm a much more suitable person for the task."

"Did I object?"

"No, not audibly, anyway."

"I'm just a little bit worried, you know," Kay Lee said. "It's just that whenever we split up into teams, something bad happens to one of us. First Jordin, then me and my team. Who will it be next?"

"I'm shooting for no casualties on this run. We can't afford for anything else to happen."

"Yeah. Hey, go careful with the head clanker, Adriaan. Those Padawan braid mementoes weren't fake."


	23. Welcome, Lord Grievous

**General Grievous finally makes his move! I won't keep you guys all waiting, so _Oya! _(Let's roll!)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own _Star Wars, _nor did I develop the Mandalorian culture, language, et cetera. However, most of the Characters and some of the planets and creatures are of my own creation.**

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Chapter 23

General Grievous was furious. The stupid battle droids had allowed the scan gate to be penetrated, and that had initiated a security breach.

"Report, commander," Grievous barked into his comlink.

"Clone troops have broken through our outer defenses."

The General struggled to keep his tone neutral. "Estimated number and current location."

"Seventeen. Current location unknown."

"I thought you said that you saw them penetrate the outer defenses!" Grievous roared, losing his temper.

"We did, but we lost contact with the droid sentries. Sending a backup squad now…"

General Grievous growled ungraciously and turned off his link. Seventeen soldiers and thirteen prisoners couldn't have just disappeared into thin air, not even in a large-scale station like this.

They had to have deactivated the scan gate somehow ––– it had been deactivated, after all, not blown up ––– and the only way they could've done that was by hijacking the command center.

Grievous stepped into the closest turbolift and keyed in the level for the command center. As the elevator rose, the former Kaleesh warrior took out a lightsaber hilt and held it ready. If he remembered correctly, the weapon had been the second trophy he had collected, from a human female Jedi who had been caught at unawares on Geonosis. The galaxy had always held the Jedi in fearful respect, but that was only because most beings didn't know just how easily those Force-sensitive warriors could be killed.

The turbolift stopped, but not on the level Grievous wanted. He stared at the closed doors, wondering who was waiting behind them. Perhaps it was the backup squad of battle droids that the commander had been sending. Well, they would just have to find another elevator. The General of the CIS did not share anything, not even turbolift space.

The doors slid open, revealing a little human child that stood surrounded by clones. All five stared, caught off guard and completely petrified at the sight of the fearsome droid General with the skull-like, ivory death head.

The girl was a Jedi Padawan ––– Grievous could tell by the risible little braid flung over her right shoulder, moreover by the way her hand went into the folds of her robe to grab her hidden lightsaber ––– but she wasn't fast enough to inflict the damage first. The droid General had been killing Jedi ever since the beginning of the clone wars, and before that he had been a warrior of great prowess.

Three troopers stood in the way of a single clean stroke that would have ended the girl's life, but Grievous wasn't picky about the people he had to dispose of. Those three clones had chosen to be at the wrong turbolift at the wrong time.

So he killed them.

* * *

Andora had been drilled by her Jedi instructors to never show emotion, even in the most extreme of circumstances, but the reaction of the cyborg General had been so sudden and so utterly inhuman that she cried out before she was able to suppress her outburst. Ashamed and at the same time attempting to recover from the shock of seeing three ultra-fit soldiers cut down in their prime, Andora's body went on auto-response and did what it had been taught to do since she had been three years old.

She withdrew her lightsaber and warded off the blows that were now meant to slaughter her.

She didn't know which ones had died ––– she had never allowed herself to become friendly enough with the troops to discover their nuances of character ––– so she lunged for the droid General dispassionately, her charge lacking the fire that was fed with the desire to avenge fallen comrades. She was a classic Jedi, unlike the modern warriors of her era, who always seemed to undergo endless emotional struggles before finally becoming apostles of the dark side, or remaining loyal yet maverick members of the Jedi Order. At the tender young age of ten, Andora possessed the sageness of character that older Jedi strove for decades to achieve. It didn't help her much on the social side, but it gave her an edge that had taught her opponents to be wary of her.

"Ma'am watch out!"

The last remaining clone of her team rolled to the side as the cyborg's arms divided to reveal two new appendages, which dipped down into the folds of his cape to retrieve two hidden lightsabers. Andora jerked her head back just in time to avoid an orange lightsaber blade that swiped at her. At the same time she was forced to parry two strikes that came at her from either side. So this was what made General Grievous so formidable an opponent; he could wield four lightsabers at once.

After several narrowly avoided decapitations, Andora decided it was time to readjust her strategy. Grievous had an obvious strength and size advantage over her, but perhaps he was lacking in agility. She decided to test this. Summoning the Force, she leaped over him and curled herself up in a ball in midair, planning to roll backwards, between the cyborg's legs, when she landed.

_Shzzzz._

She smelled singed hair and skin and had nanoseconds to maneuver before the lightsaber cleaved her in half. She stood just in time to see that the cyborg had turned his attention to her companion, who had been bravely keeping up a steady barrage of fire until that point.

"Avast!" Andora said, summoning authority in her tone. "Thou evil cyborg, do not prey upon my impuissant subordinate!"

"Impuissant!" the clone sputtered. "Jango's bones, girl, if we weren't in such a precarious situation, I would find that description rather insulting!"

"Fight me instead!" Andora cried in desperation as the cyborg raised his lightsaber.

General Grievous halted, his reptilian eyes swerving toward the girl. "Tell me where your Master is, little girl, and I will make certain that you and this clone will perish swiftly by my hand."

"She is not here!" Andora said, thinking quickly. "She has absconded!"

Those golden, mesmerizing eyes continued to stare her down. "Hah! I think not," Grievous said. "Your kind is so blandly predictable; I know that no Jedi would leave her companion left alone to die. So she must be here; you cannot deny it. The only question left is exactly where in this confounded station is she?"

Andora was silent.

"Well, if you will not tell me, it is no matter. You will all soon share the same fate." He raised his saber again.

"No!" Andora leaped forward, her own green lightsaber clashing with his. She raised her arm to strike again, but was stopped by a parry that sent a jolt radiating up her arms. The pain was so intense she nearly dropped her own lightsaber. She banished her agony and struggled to ward off the blows that came at her from all sides. Remembering the lightsabers clipped to her belt, Andora grabbed one and came back at the General with a fresh spurt of speed and strength.

"Obtain them!" The girl used the Force to toss the other sabers to the clone. "Finalize our objective! Decamp; take flight!"

"I'll be back, ma'am!"

Andora blocked off the next attack and initiated a Cho mai strike, cutting off one of Grievous' extra appendages. With a cry of fury, the cyborg lunged forward and whirled the remaining three lightsabers so quickly Andora wasn't able to block the strokes. Forced to retreat, she backed away slowly from the deadly swirling sabers which were moving steadily forward, as if they formed a single machine preparing to shred her to pieces.

She backed up until she found herself pressed against the wall. With no other options left, she swung into the midst of the arcing lightsabers.

She shouted as a fresh spasm of pain shot through her arm and through her entire body. The shock was so torturous that she feared that her bones would break. Miraculously, they did not.

But her lightsaber hilt shattered from the impact, exploding into billions of silvery pieces, mixed with bits of rainbow-colored wires from the energy modulation circuits, and green flecks which had originally formed the crystals that had kept her lightsaber blade humming. Not only that, the explosion had rendered her left arm almost entirely useless, too numb to effectively grip the remaining weapon left to her.

Luckily, all Jedi were taught to wield a lightsaber with equal dexterity on both the right and the left. Though Andora Kenobi was a sedulous pupil, she was not ambidextrous; she favored her left hand over her right. But her weaker arm would have to do for now.

The droid and the little girl clashed together again. Their lightsabers locked in a cross position, and Andora was driven back yet again by the potency of the blow.

Grievous withdrew something round and silver from his cape and threw it. Andora's eyes followed the arc of the shiny ball and realized with a start that it was heading for the clone, who had hesitated when he had seen her being bulldozed by the cyborg. That one brief second in which he had paused, to make sure that a girl he hardly even knew was all right, was enough time for the General to strike.

The half-charge exploded immediately upon contact, and a mixture of flesh and white plastoid-alloy armor spattered the scene before Andora's eyes. Sharp fragments of armor cut into her cheeks as something wet spurted upon her face and dripped down between her closed lips. It tasted of blood, and as she brought her hand over her face to wipe away the residue, it came away crimson, stained with both her ichor and the fallen clone's. The horror prostrated her and took control of her senses as she fell to the floor.

General Grievous laughed and raised two lightsabers high into the air, ready for the kill.

"A pity your Master didn't train you better," Grievous said. "You might have saved the lives of your men. But now you fall by the Knight Slayer's hand, as all of your accursed religion will."

The lightsabers cleaved downward, aiming for her chest, but Andora lifted up her weapon and blocked the death stroke. Grievous cried out in rage and swung his third arm to strike again, but the girl Force-pushed it away, grabbing one of the arms that held the lightsabers in mid-stroke above her head. The cyborg screamed again and tried to throw her off, but only aided in her escape by catapulting her into the air. Andora flipped and rolled to the ground, fleeing from the mighty General Grievous, cyborg Kaleesh that had never let a Jedi Padawan yet ––– excluding the valiant Ahsoka Tano, Padawan of Anakin Skywalker ––– escape his fearsome claws, the claws which were stained with the blood of countless soldiers of the Galactic Republic.

The predator let the child go. It did not matter to him whether she lived or died, only that she feared him. And if she didn't fear him, it still would not amount to much; for she would be returning to the Republic army, and she would be forced to report to her commanding officer the manner of the deaths of her men, and then Grievous' infamy as the bane of the Galactic Republic would spread.

General Grievous did not sheathe his lightsabers, now that his enemies lay slain about him. His work was done here, but his mission was yet uncompleted. He was still hunting.

It was time to visit the command center of the Umbrian complex.

* * * * *

Aedan sat at the console, his rear end parked in a chair that was meant for a much larger person; as a result, his feet dangled nearly a meter off the floor. Swinging his legs so that his boots thunked repeatedly on the desk, he reached out and started to punch random letters on the keyboard.

_WICKED WICKED WICKED WICKED WICKED WICKED WICKED WICKED WICKEDWICKEDWICKED WICKEDWICKEDWICKED…_

Okay, maybe that wasn't so random, after all. Aedan's hands momentarily left the keypad, and his feet stopped kicking; he sat still, contemplative. Suddenly his eyes brightened and he set back to work, his fingers flying across the keys as letters became words became sentences became paragraphs.

_I am a WICKED man named WICKED WICKED TRULY WICKED WICKED AEDAN KENOBI WICKED KING OF WICKED OF WICKEDS, but my real name used to be just Aedan. My mother gave me that name, and I guess she must've been stupid, otherwise she would've given me a WICKEDER name. I disliked my birth name so much that I hired Jabba the Hutt to legally change my name to WICKED WICKED TRULY WICKED WICKED AEDAN KENOBI WICKED KING OF WICKED OF WICKEDS, but then I WICKEDLY figured out that there was a difference between a crimelord and a social security government authority, so I hired an agent to fill out the required paperwork. I'm not going to tell you the agent's name, first of all because I did not ask for his name, and second of all he was such an unimportant man that he didn't really have a name anyway. He wore a black septsilk suit, had slick, GOOD-looking hair, smooth skin, and GOODEST of all he actually wore deodorant. So I decided to call him Hobo. For some reason he was offended that I would call him by such an honorably WICKED name, so I changed it to GOOD Hobo. After I traumatized him with my illegally procured taser, the man had calmed down enough to ask me what I wished my new name to be. After I WICKEDLY told him, he picked up his stylus, pressed the point to the piece of flimsiplast, wrote down the first word, then stopped. _

_ "What was the name again?" he asked._

_ That WICKEDLY did it. Only a GOOD would've asked such a GOOD question. I marveled at how stupid GOOD Hobo was, that he couldn't remember such a short, memorably WICKED name such as mine, which is WICKED WICKED TRULY WICKED WICKED AEDAN KENOBI WICKED KING OF WICKED OF WICKEDS, and not Aedan which was what my GOOD mother named me. _

_ After I marveled at GOOD Hobo's apparent lack of intelligence, I killed him. The End._

"That never happened," Minir said, looking over Aedan's shoulder.

_ Epilogue: Minir said it didn't happen, but no self-respecting WICKED would believe him, so I just glared and spit in his face._

"You didn't spit in my face –––"

Minir's retort was cut short by a thick glob of saliva that shot out of Aedan's mouth and hit him square in the eye. With a shriek of rage, Minir swung his fists out in a wild punch, aiming to hit Aedan's temple. Aedan blocked the punch with a contemptuous ease and flipped Minir onto the floor with one of his show-offy martial arts moves that he had learned from Adriaan. Cursing his Master, Minir rolled off his back and stomped off to find a dark corner and sulk in private.

Terry looked up from the computer he had been slicing into. "Silly Minir; doesn't he know WICKEDER than to challenge the awesome powers of our WICKED King Aedan?"

The Wicked King, pleased by Terry's praise, smirked and puffed out his chest with pride. He then swiveled the chair back around to the computer and resumed typing and kicking the desk with his boots.

Kien appeared from an alcove in the back of the room, clutching a cup that had been improvised from an oil can. He plunked down in a chair next to Terry and took a swig at the dark, slick liquid contained in the can.

"Guess what," Kien said, kicking Terry's chair and sending it rolling away from the computer. Terry huffed irritably and pushed the chair back up to the console.

"You know, Kien, WICKED little boys know to leave their WICKED big brothers alone when their WICKEDLY superior older brothers are researching WICKED information on enemy computers," Terry said.

"You aren't any GOOD old big brother," Kien said, a trifle indignant. "You're, like, only two WICKED years older than me."

"Exactly. What?"

"What what?"

"You said, 'Guess what' and I WICKEDLY answered 'What'"

"Oh, yeah, that," Kien swirled the contents in his cup and took another large slurp. "GOOD battle droids drink caf, too."

"Battle droids? Wow, how did you figure that WICKED thing out…" Terry did a double-take and swiveled away from the screen to take a good look at Kien. "Um, Kien, that isn't caf."

Kien peered into the can and hesitantly took a test sip. "It UNWICKEDLY tastes like it."

"But it GOODLY isn't. It's not even a WICKED drink. It's lubricating oil."

The boy stopped in mid-gulp, and without any delay spat out a stream of liquid that sprayed all over poor Terry.

"Blech!" Kien screamed, clawing at his tongue to get the taste out of his mouth. "Blarg!" He coughed and spluttered to rid himself of the lubricant. Terry sighed as he looked at the dark oil stain on the front of his new Aquahawks jersey ––– which he had bought for the hefty sum of three thousand credits ––– and swiveled resignedly back to the computer screen, ignoring the guffaws coming from his Wicked King.

Most of the passcodes were too sophisticated for Terry to crack, so he entertained himself by shredding all the files he couldn't open. While Kien went in search of a beverage to wash away the taste of the "caf" the leader of the Wicked Club turned on the security cams outside the command center to check that everything was in order. While he waited for the cam to load, he bent his head down to examine the black scuff marks his boots had left on the pristine white desk. Satisfied that he had done a WICKED job vandalizing the console, he turned his attention back to the screen.

Boring. Nothing was there. Disappointed, Aedan switched the screen off and stood to go find Minir, when something seemed to freeze him on the spot. The dark side of the Force surged. He sat down again, disconcerted, and began to check the security systems. There had been no sign of an intruder on the cams, but his WICKED intuition was telling him that someone was there.

"Oops," Kien said.

"What is it now?" Terry asked. "Did you WICKEDLY ingest poison or something?"

"The ray shields have been deactivated," Kien said. "Did you GOODLY turn them off?"

"How could I have?" Terry said. "I don't know the GOOD old code; Aedan put it in."

Apprehension suddenly washed over the Wicked King, followed by a rush of excitement. None of them had switched off the ray shields that protected the center, and Aedan, though not a skilled technician, could put in a passcode that would stump standard battle droid programming. That left only a handful of people in the station with the intelligence level to disable the shield.

And one of them was General Grievous.

Aedan sat down again in his chair, squirming in an effort to keep his adrenaline levels down. He had never seen the droid General, but he could feel his malicious presence in the Force, like some monster lurking in the darkest corner under the bed. He was close; the hunter had found them.

He heard the faint _clank _of a claw-like foot hit the durasteel floor outside the doors, and he gave a hurried hand signal at his minions to go find cover. Terry, Kien, and Minir disappeared in a flash, their soldier Jedi training taking over as they switched off the lights and took strategic positions around the door.

The doors hissed open ominously, and Aedan turned his chair so that its back was facing the intruder. He waited silently, hardly daring to breathe, as he awaited the arrival of Grievous.

The officer of the Umbrian station stepped into his command center.

"You cannot hide," a rasping, half-reptilian, half-robotic voice hissed into the gloom.

Aedan didn't get scared easily, and he wasn't about to freak out now. Quite the opposite, in fact. He had been waiting for this moment for a long time. In war, one rarely had enough time to formulate a dramatic opening to a fight, much to Aedan's dismay; there was nothing he liked better than trash-talking his opponent before a scrap. Now he finally had his chance to initiate a battle, Aedan-style.

He slowly turned the chair around and faced the Separatist General. The hulking shape that was illuminated in the doorway stiffened at the movement. Two golden, lizard-like eyes shone like headlights in Aedan's face as the cyborg took another step forward into the room and flicked on the lights, flooding Aedan's eyes with an unbearable brightness.

"Welcome, Lord Grievous," he said in a deep, authoritative voice, squinting to help his eyes adjust to the abrupt change in lighting. "I have been WICKEDLY expecting you."

"Ah, a boy," Grievous said, sounding let down. "You are the third child in a row I have had to battle. The Jedi really must be running out of Knights. How discouraging it must be for you."

The cyborg's talking had given Aedan enough time to regain his eyesight. The boy blinked rapidly, taking a good look at the face of the Supreme Commander of the CIS army.

It wasn't really much of a face; it was bone-white, and flawless, the only recognizable features being the golden eyes and the two long fangs that protruded from the bottom of the mask. The body itself was large, but lean, and ––– for a droid body ––– surprisingly mobile.

"How GOOD it must be for _you, _rather, to WICKEDLY discover that you will have to face yet another Apprentice," Aedan retorted.

"Make that _seven _more WICKED Apprentices," Kien corrected, he and his companions surrounding the General.

Grievous turned slightly, accosting his new assailants. To the boys' mortification, the cyborg laughed. "Hah! Fools! If there are seven of you, how come I only see four?"

"What? There's only four of us?" Kien asked, looking around.

"Fool," Minir muttered.

"You are going to croak today, Grievous," Aedan began dramatically, stepping forward and bowing with a flourish.

"Perhaps, but not by your hand," the cyborg said.

"What the GOOD makes you say that? Can't you see that I'm WICKEDLY _ripped_?!" Aedan said, flexing his biceps. This was swiftly followed by a chorus of coughs from his companions.

"Do not insult my intelligence, youngling. Even if you were one hundred times the Jedi that I think you are, you would still not be able to kill me, for you have _no lightsaber._"

And with that, General Grievous withdrew his four laserswords and lunged at the boy.


	24. Knight Slayer

**_Su'cuy! _This chapter is rather long, but don't worry, there's lots of action! As usual, reviews are greatly appreciated. Okay, _Oya!_**

**Disclaimer: I don't own _Star Wars, _nor did I create the Mando'a language. However, I do own all original characters, planets, and creatures.**

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**Chapter 24**

Aedan did a one hundred and eighty degree turn and felt the _whoosh _of air as the lightsabers cleaved the space where he had been nanoseconds before. He ducked down and executed a butterfly kick, propelling himself away from the cyborg and at the same time scoring a glancing hit on the droid's shoulder. Grievous yelled and swiped at the boy with his extra arms, but Aedan nimbly danced away.

"Hah! Stupid GOOD!" Aedan chortled, turning around and showing Grievous his backside. He shook his rear cheekily at the formidable CIS general.

"Rahr!" General Grievous lunged forward to impale Aedan, who again lithely avoided the lightsaber with a butterfly twist, glad now for the martial arts tricking seminar he had taken at the Jedi Temple. But Grievous did not intend to be fooled by the same move again. As Aedan moved away from the attacking arm, Grievous brought two lightsabers in a sideswipe at the boy, who fell to the floor in surprise as the sabers whistled overhead.

"Attack!" Kien screamed, he, Terry, and Minir charging for the Knight Slayer. "WICKED!"

General Grievous turned only to be barreled over by a combined Force-push from Minir and Kien. Terry rushed forward over the fallen general and hauled Aedan to his feet.

"Lightsabers," Aedan panted. "Get his GOOD lightsabers!"

"Too late!" Minir croaked as Grievous did a front-walkover to his feet.

"Die!" the cyborg screamed, slashing at the Wicked King and his second-in-command. Aedan roared and used the Force to send a chair careening into the general, who was prostrated on the floor for the second time. Aedan cackled gleefully, sending a desk and three other chairs smashing on top of the fallen body.

"WICKED!" Kien and Terry laughed.

"Hah hah hah!" Aedan shrieked, puffing out his chest and pompously strutting about. "Dumb, clumsy, GOOD droid!"

"GOODS! He's still got all the lightsabers!" Minir screamed as a clawed hand shot up out of the twisted mass of metal. The pile suddenly exploded, freeing Grievous as he twirled his lightsabers threateningly, searching for his target.

"You may have the power of the Force on your side, but the odds are still heavily in my favor," he said. "The Force can slow me down, but it can't stop me from killing you! I have all the weapons!"

"Not _all _of them," Kien said, hefting an SR combat pistol and aiming it at the droid's chest. "GOOD-bye, Knight Slayer!"

"No, you GOOD, don't!" Minir screamed as Kien pulled the trigger.

* * *

Aedan didn't believe it. He didn't; it was just plain inconceivable for him to be seeing something like this. It was far more likely that he was hallucinating, or dreaming a very bad nightmare. It wasn't possible.

He saw Kien shoot at Grievous, saw the cyborg bat away the red lasers as easily as if he were simply playing a game of laserball. He saw the blasts hit Kien full in the chest, saw the boy's facial expression half-change from jubilation to dread. He saw with perfect clarity the lime-green of his strategist's eyes just microseconds before the diaphanous film of death clouded them in premature expiry. He saw the friend that he cherished most fall, and even though it looked and felt unreal, Aedan knew it wasn't.

It wasn't a hallucination; it was true. Kien Mariner, at eight years old, had been killed.

"Hah! Foolish youngling, now you know what it is like for the battle droids!"Grievous laughed. "How does it feel now, to face an adversary that deflects your attacks back at you?"

Kien hadn't been allowed to die a hero's death. He had perished in a common, miserable way, as if he had been little better than a droid. He hadn't died in a glorious duel, as did the legendary Jedi Knights of old; he had died by a blaster bolt that he had fired himself. In Aedan's book of WICKEDNESS, that was the GOODEST way to croak.

Aedan sank to his knees and covered his face in shame as the tears began to flow.

"Yes, cry, youngling, cry like the baby and coward that you are," Grievous said. "How can you Jedi be so softhearted? This is war; people die in wars. You didn't have to fight, yet you chose to. Why cry over this brat's death? He chose it, and he is not the only one who will make that choice today."

Aedan slowly removed his hands from his face and looked up at the droid General. He wasn't crying anymore; the weeping had faded away, replaced by baser feelings.

"You're WICKEDLY right," Aedan said slowly. "Kien may be gone, but I am the WICKED King, and I will make certain that today he will not croak alone."

His hand darted forward faster than greased lightning, Force-pulling two lightsabers from Grievous' belt. Activating them, he shot toward the general, employing his knowledge of the Jar-Kai form as he slashed and twirled his dual weapons. Grievous, taken by surprise, was forced on the defensive for the time being, slowly being pushed back toward the door. Aedan, dark with vengeance, attacked again and again with cold precision. He was too angry to fight without form, as was his custom; his fury had honed his attacks to a razor-sharp point, his anger not clouding his judgement, but enhancing it.

Adriaan had told him countless times to be wary of using hatred to fuel his attacks, but was it wrong to be angry now, when Kien was dead? Was it a sin to avenge Kien's dishonorable death? The Jedi had told him that anger would blind him, deflect him from victory. Was he blinded now? Never before had he executed the Jar-Kai form with such grace, beauty, speed, and power.

"Aedan! WICKED Aedan! Give me a lightsaber! Let me help you!" Terry screamed.

"Let us help, you GOOD! We can defeat him together!" Minir yelled.

Aedan was too busy to answer; he was too preoccupied to even hear their pleas. His mind had one purpose now. A year ago, he had lost his friend, Na'thin, to the cruelty of the CIS and their allies. He hadn't been given the chance to make Na'thin's killers pay for what they had done, and that was something that would haunt him for the rest of his life. He wouldn't let the same thing happen again.

Grievous was against the wall now, and Aedan lunged in for the kill. But Grievous parried the thrust, and the lighsabers sank down to the hilt into the wall instead. As Aedan struggled to extract the sabers, Grievous jammed a metal knee right into Aedan's groin. Aedan yelped and keeled over, and the droid pinned him to the ground by grinding a clawed foot into his stomach.

Through the spasms of his agony, Aedan desperately sought the Force to soothe his pains, but grasping the Force at that moment was like trying to hold onto the wind. As he struggled to clear his mind, he could just barely comprehend the searing heat of a lightsaber blade pressing into the exposed flesh of his neck.

"I am bored," Grievous said. "Perhaps after you are all reported dead, the Jedi will finally send Masters more suited to my level of skill, instead of headstrong little Padawans that they have been pitting against me lately. I am weary of being underestimated by both Count Dooku and the Republic."

There was a slight _vrmm _of a lightsaber whistling by his right ear, and Aedan suppressed a gasp. But Grievous' intention hadn't been to kill him; instead, Aedan smelled the faint odor of seared hair, and his hand automatically went up behind his ear as he felt for his Padawan braid.

Grievous laughed. "Hah, yes, fool! Even though you have failed to entertain me, you have at least served some purpose. Perhaps whenever I see this braid in my collection, I will recall you, though you are so trifling an opponent that I doubt I will commit you to memory. But let your cowardly companions mark this moment well," he said, looking in the direction of Terry and Minir, "so that they can bring an accurate report to Adriaan ell Talaan on the manner of your death."

"N-n-n-o-o-o!!!" A horrible, high-pitched, animal-like shriek of pure anguish was torn from Terry's lips as he recklessly surged forward to protect his Wicked King. The cyborg laughed gleefully at the sound of Terry's grief-stricken scream he raised his lightsaber again, this time for the kill.

Aedan looked up into the grotesque, faceless, insectoid head of the Knight Slayer, and bravely waited for the blow that would end it all. The blue eyes of the victim and the gold eyes of the predator locked for a moment.

Then the hunter's gaze swiveled and struck.

"Umph."

It took Aedan's brain a few moments to process what had happened. Grievous had swung, but not for the prey at his feet. He hadn't hit Aedan.

He had hit Terry.

Terry. The first friend he had had at the Jedi Temple. From the time they had both learned to walk, they had done everything together: training in the same combat techniques, playing laserball and gravball, building, destroying, playing jokes on the Jedi Masters and getting punished for it, sharing the same room, raising pets, recruiting club members, writing the book of WICKEDNESS, screaming, whining, laughing…Aedan's inseparable twin had been Terry, rather than Andora, his true womb mate. Now Terry was gone, too. Aedan's world was falling apart.

It had begun to fall apart ever since the day he had lost his arm due to a reckless lightsaber swing from Jahn Pal. He lived with the pain of having a prosthetic limb in place of the arm he had lost; he would never use the Force with his right hand again. After that incident, the grievances had piled on top of one another; the loss of Na'thin, and now the death of Kien and Terry, too. Aedan had always insisted that those who were truly WICKED would never die, but now he was uncertain. Was anyone ever truly invincible?

Minir seemed to have come to that revelation himself, for when he saw that all three of his companions lying on the floor, he turned tail and fled, leaving his Wicked King to a gruesome fate.

"Minir, help!" Aedan choked as Grievous' merciless claws dug deeper into his flesh.

"Help yourself!" Minir retorted. "You're the one that's supposed to be invincible! The King of WICKEDS, hah! Save yourself, since you are truly WICKED! I owe you nothing; your friendship was undesirable and nothing but a torment to me. But now I will finally be free! GOOD-bye!"

The claws stopped puncturing Aedan's flesh for a moment as Grievous turned his attention to the fleeing Apprentice. As Aedan lay on the floor, stunned by the death of Terry and Kien, and the betrayal of Minir, Grievous strode forward, picked up Minir by the collar of his tunic, and ran his lightsaber through the boy's neck. Minir let out a terrible shriek and was dropped to the floor like a broken toy.

Grievous bent down, cut away Minir's jet-black braid, and pocketed it. "There is only one thing I hate more than a Jedi," he explained, addressing the sole survivor of the command center, "and that is a cowardly one."

Aedan rolled to his feet, his eyes streaming uncontrollably. "You killed him," he choked. "You killed Minir!"

"He betrayed you," Grievous said indifferently. "Why should you care about his fate? Shouldn't you worry about yourself?"

"He wasn't even fighting you! He was running away, and you just picked him up and killed him!" Aedan was too grieved to remember to add "wicked"s and "good"s to his sentences.

"He was a coward," Grievous said.

"Yes, he was a coward," Aedan said. "But I ask you, who is the more cowardly: the coward or the one who needlessly slaughters him?"

"I don't have any patience for this," Grievous said, twirling his lightsabers into an attack stance. "Now, are you going to lay back down and let me kill you or are you going to put up a fight?"

"I made the GOOD mistake of fighting you with hatred last time," Aedan said. "Because of that, I have lost two more of my WICKED friends. But I will not make the same GOOD mistake this time." He stepped back into a guard stance, Force-pulling his lightsabers back to him and holding them in an offensive position. "Your move, General."

The cyborg took a step back also and spread wide all four of his arms. His wrists began to spin, whirling each lightsaber until the blades became four luminous, deadly, interlocking circles. The droid stepped forward, cutting the floor before him, as if he were some great, horribly efficient machine. Grievous took another step, and Aedan moved back also, knowing that if he got caught in the whirlwind of blades, he would be cut down as easily as a blade of grass before a fibersaw.

The two of them moved like this for a time, step for step, until Aedan's back ran up against the hard, unforgiving contours of the command center wall.

"Your time is up, little boy," Grievous said.

But Grievous had forgotten something that every good hunter should remember. Aedan was caught between the anvil and hammer, it was true, but every hunter knows that an animal is most dangerous when cornered. It is only when backed into a wall, where there is no hope of escape, when even the most timid of creatures unleashes a ferocity that only comes with the will to survive.

Aedan found it now, the unexpected rush of adrenaline that causes all beings to strive for the impossible; the fight for survival. It was the same strength that had come to Andora half an hour before, in exactly the same circumstances. The instant before Grievous' lightsabers cut his body, Aedan lunged forward, executing the same move his twin had made.

Unfortunately, Grievous had learned his lesson from last time. He saw immediately what Aedan was about to do, and as his blades clashed against the boys' lightsabers, he brought his head down and whacked his mumuu mask against Aedan's skull.

_Thwack. _The sound was like a wet rag slapping against duracrete. Aedan's head ricocheted against the wall, and he reeled sideways as blood trickled down into his eyes, blinding him. He was dimly aware of a green blade swiping toward him, and dropped to the floor, hearing the cold _whoosh _of air by his ear as the lightsaber missed his head by mere millimeters.

"No one can save you now, youngling," Grievous hissed. Aedan heard the _vrrmm _as the lightsabers were swung upward. "Make your peace with the Force now."

"Capitulate. Your. Lightsaber."

Someone else was in the room now, someone Aedan well knew, but had never yet found joy in the sound of that person's voice. Not until now.

"You again," Grievous said to the intruder, distracted from his prey.

Aedan took advantage of that distraction. Pulling his legs up into his chest, he gathered the Force in and kicked out, sending a wave of the Force through his feet. Grievous was lifted bodily into the air and thrown backwards, sprawling over a console. Aedan leaped to his feet and grinned through the haze of blood at his unexpected ally.

"So WICKED to see you, Andora," Aedan said.

His sister glanced at him, her dark eyes flashing with a light Aedan had never seen before. It made her somehow look…brave. Fearless. Ardent. Like a WICKED.

"I would not exhort spurning my succor in this context," Andora told him. She thought he was being sarcastic with her; she didn't know how truly grateful he was that she was here. She would probably never know.

The cyborg did not take long to recover. As Grievous leaped back to his feet, lightsabers cleaving through the air, Aedan took a step back so that he stood beside his twin.

"We'll take him together," he said to her, and for the first time, the twins stood shoulder to shoulder, the same purpose reflected in their eyes. And for the first time, General Grievous hesitated to attack, afraid of what he saw in his adversaries' gazes.

Aedan and Andora recalled at the same instant the synchronized fighting drill Adriaan had given them a few weeks back, and for the first time since their first day of training at the Jedi Temple, Aedan and Andora Kenobi stepped forward and attacked as one unit.

* * * * *

The Umbrian station was so large that it required a rail jet transportation system to convey the immense loads of weapons, other military equipment, and personnel necessary to run the complex. There were two rails for each of the three main levels of the station, and each train made a stop at a terminal close to the central turbolift. This was the station where Adriaan and the other four groups separated; Kay Lee and company taking the hover train that made a stop at the weapons depot, and Adriaan taking the rail that traveled in the opposite direction, towards elevators that would take her to the topmost levels in the base.

The four groups designated to rout out any tactical droids that were assumably operating the ground troops stored in the station decided, upon further discussion, not to separate into their respective groups until they had explored the weapons and battle droid storage depot, for that arsenal was no doubt one of the more heavily defended areas in the complex.

The standing order was to avoid enemy contact when possible, but they were not to shy away from a fight if they were spotted by the droids. If they happened to run into Grievous, they could take a stand against him, but they were to contact Adriaan if they were to do so. While their goal in fighting the Separatist general was simply to delay him until General ell Talaan's arrival, if the opportunity presented itself they were allowed to kill him. Taking him captive was a delicate task appropriate for at least a Jedi Knight, so even though it was preferred that they take him alive, Adriaan thought it best that they not take the risk of losing their own lives in an attempt to keep the Separatist general intact for interrogation.

Kay Lee crouched in a cab filled with anonymous Separatist cargo. She watched a little apprehensively as Andre banged his head against one of the bins; she wasn't quite sure if the crates contained highly incendiary ordnance or not, though Wolf had done both a visual check and had run the crates over with his scanners to make sure that what the cab was carrying wouldn't blast them sky-high once the battle droids pinpointed their location and started to fire. According to him, the bins were filled with spare parts, but that still didn't stop Kay Lee from flinching whenever someone bumped against a bin and caused a sharp _bang _to resonate throughout the car.

"Up on oh five, Cyclops," Ember said, his head tilting toward the door of the car. His batch of men immediately took cover behind bins, cocking their blaster rifles and training them on the door at different angles. Whoever walked through the door would get caught in the crossfire and be killed instantly.

"SOP?" Drag asked his captain.

"Defel; Position three."

"G2G."

"What kriffing language are you guys speaking?" Kay Lee said, irritated.

"Sorry, Commander. I forgot that your grasp of military terminology is rudimentary at best," Cor said saucily.

Commander Lee bristled. "Is that how you address your superior officer, clone?"

"Sorry about that, Commander," Ember said. He rounded on his subordinate. "Cor! Show a little more respect for the Jedi, or I'll, ah…" the clone paused, as if suddenly realizing that he was in children's company, and then amended. "Well, to put it lightly, I'll hit you so hard you'll have to eat med center food for the rest of your life."

Andre snorted. "Stupid GOOD; do you think we're so naïve that we've never heard bad language before?"

"I meant no offense," Ember said. "The Kaminoans stressed the importance of speaking civilly in the presence of Jedi; that means we shouldn't use strong language."

"I know more WICKED words than you do," Nic informed Ember importantly.

"Oh, really, little Sergeant?" Cor asked sarcastically. "And what might those words be?"

Nic's fingers tapped a few letters onto his wrist link as he sent a text message to Cor's HUD. Kay could hear the sharp intake of breath as the clone read the message.

"You know all _that?_" Cor said finally, clearly shocked.

Nic nodded proudly.

"What Hutt-spawned devil taught you?"

"Master Katma Malub."

Now it was Kay's turn to be shocked. "Master Malub? You're kidding." Katma was a Jedi Master that taught group combat classes to the more elite younglings back at the Temple.

"Guys? This is command Defel, not monkey-lizard," Wolf said.

"It makes no difference to me," Kay replied, shrugging disdainfully.

"Sorry, Commander; as Cor said, General ell Talaan told us that your comprehension of military terminology is…" Wolf checked himself and finished tactfully. "Basically, Commander, Defel means that we're going to dispose of the clankers quietly, and police, which means that we're going to leave no traces of an attack."

"What about Position three?"

"Oh, that's a more specific order about how to station ourselves; it doesn't apply to you Jedi."

"So what are us Jedi supposed to do?"

"You're the Commander, ma'am, not me."

"Don't tease me, Sergeant; you know I have no right to my rank because I have absolutely no clue how to fight a war, while in contrast you've spent your whole life trained for battle; in fact, that's what you were created for. So just tell me what to do, and I'll do it."

Everyone tensed as the muffled chatter of B-1 droids right outside the car reached their ears.

"What do we do?!" Kay hissed desperately.

"Hide, you idiot…I mean, ma'am!" Cor whispered.

Kay made a mental note to give Cor a good hiding once they got off-planet, though for the moment she found it prudent to listen to the affronting clone's advice. As she crouched behind a durasteel bin, she wondered what had gotten into Cor lately; he had never been so disrespectful before. The person to contradict his superior officers had always been Rez. She wondered if maybe Cor missed his brother, and that was why he was acting so short-tempered. Perhaps he was worried that Rez wouldn't make it back to the Republic frigate, or perhaps his leg injury was bugging him. Whatever the reason, she hoped it wouldn't distract him during the impending battle.

"Are you okay, Cor?" she said softly.

"Commander, I really must request that you shut up," Cor said tersely.

The cab doors hissed open, and there was the distinct _clank _of several battle droid feet hitting the durasteel floor of the car as a squad of robots entered. From her position, Kay could not see anything, so she waited with bated breath for the battle droids to proceed.

_Clank CLU-CLUNK._

That was weird. She was tempted to raise her head and see what had caused the droids to make such a loud noise, but she recalled the time she had seen a clone trooper do that during the invasion of Hai. The clone's head had been blasted right off, and a companion that had leaped up to defend his brother's body had been killed as soon as he had left cover. They had lost many clones in that siege, but for some reason that scene of death was the one Kay remembered the most clearly.

"All cleared," Wolf breathed.

Kay Lee's head popped up over the bin, all caution forgotten as curiosity took over. "What the –––"

Four battle droids lay sprawled on the floor of the cab, their combined bodies acting as a wedge between the car doors, forcing them to stay open.

"Okay, I really want to know how you accomplished _that,_" Kay said.

"We slotted them, ma'am; simple as that," Wolf said.

"It can't be so simple; blaster rifles make noise when they're fired. I heard nothing."

"Oh, we didn't use blaster carbines; we used slug rifles. See?" Ember stood up and walked over to a fallen droid, hauling it up by the head. He pointed to a small black hole in the center of its control panel. "Metal projectile."

"Aren't those rather outdated?"

"Perhaps, but we like slug rifles because they kill quietly. No reason to throw away a good weapon, right?"

"I suppose." Kay was quickly learning that all clones had a passion for their "toys" She didn't blame them; aside from their armor, their weapons were really the only possessions they had.

"Cut the chatter and police," Shakir said. While the rest of the clones kept their slug rifles trained on the cab doors, Shakir, Wolf, Ember, and Jys hauled the droids out of the entrance, folded them up, and concealed them in the bins.

"Okay, now everyone back to Position three, and we'll do it again," Ember said, reloading his rifle.

"It won't be long before the droids catch on to what we're doing," Kay Lee pointed out.

"Right. And when they do figure out what we up to, they're going to send out a larger force to investigate. What type of droid do you think will be commanding that squad?"

Kay Lee understood immediately. "Ah. We're trying to lure a tactical droid in. Of course."

"Yes, of course," Cor said. "And Commander?"

"Yes?"

"Don't worry about me; I won't let my concern for Rez to break my concentration. It's something all of us soldiers have to get used to."

"I guess you're right." Kay Lee returned to her hiding spot thoughtfully, a much wiser woman than she had been a few minutes ago.

Kan adamantly believed that the clone troops were just cannon fodder, but Kay was beginning to realize that the clones were more complex than any of the Jedi Padawans had ever imagined. They had feelings; they cared for the welfare of their brothers.

In some ways, they were more human than the Jedi could ever be.

They had destroyed five squads before the battle droids figured out what they were up to. Jys, Ember, Wolf, and Cor had just ran over to clean up the mess when Cor dropped his battle droid and pointed through the open doors.

"Holy –––"

That was all he had time to say before his survival instincts got the better of him and he found the presence of mind to dive out of the way as ten commando droids bullied their way into the car.

"Down down down!" Ember yelled, he and his other two brothers copying Cor's example by flinging themselves facedown to the floor. "Cover us, someone!"

Commando droids were built to withstand sustained attacks from blasterfire. The slug rifles were no good against the enhanced robots' armor. Kay Lee took her cue and charged the commandos, her lightsaber held aloft. It was a bit tough engaging the tinnies in so confined a space, and she had to watch out for the clones prostrated on the floor, too, but it didn't take long for the other Apprentices to get up and help her out. The nine Jedi Padawans demolished the group in a matter of seconds.

"Tactical droid?" Klamin yelled, holding up a disengaged commando droid head.

"Neg, sir! Tacticals have larger brains!" Cor shouted back.

"The good news is that they've finally caught on to us," Ember said. "It won't be long now before a Tee-Dee arrives with reinforcements."

"That's supposed to be _good _news?" Kan yelped.

"GOOD is right," Nic, Andre, and Heatrian grumbled.

"Organize a sortie!" Kay said on sudden thought, kicking a fallen droid out from under her feet as the train began to move. "Jys, Comet, Shakir, Heatrian, and Klamin, transfer to cab 2A! Ember, Marya, Ammo, cab 3A! Kan, Andre, Darc, Storm, cab 6B! Vyto, Lance, Fyre, Jahn Pal, and Nano, cab 4A! Sai'wer, Nic, Drag, Skipp, Cor, cab 4C! Onor and Wolf, come with me to cab 5B!"

"Um, Commander, I thought you said you weren't going to do any commanding today," Cor pointed out.

"I know, but that was before I thought of this idea."

"Ma'am, with all due respect, leave the strategizing to us," Ember said.

"Just trust me."

"I don't trust non-clones easily."

"Well, learn to, because the clankers are going to be at the next station, which we'll be arriving at in about two minutes. So unless you already have a plan…"

Ember took the hint. He couldn't disobey her, even if she was less experienced than him. "Awaiting orders, ma'am."

"Get into your cabs and I'll explain by comlink."

Ember whirled around. "Well, you heard the Commander. Move it, on the double now!"

Kay waited until everyone was in position before she continued, "Okay. The last squad sent out was an advanced group of commando battle droids, so the CIS have probably caught on to us. They now know for sure that we're on this train, which travels in one direction, so they also know exactly where we're going to stop next. Therefore, I don't think we'd be wrong to expect a detachment of clankers waiting for our arrival at the next terminal."

"So why are we in separate cabs?" Klamin asked.

"This station has a distinct spherical shape, and in case you haven't noticed, the interior is designed in a circular pattern, too, to conserve space. All the hallways are curved, and so are all the rail systems in this complex. I've observed that at every station, the train actually coils around the platform. When we arrive at the terminal, the droids will all be waiting to board the train and rout us out. They will no doubt greatly outnumber us, but we have already outmaneuvered them, thanks to the design of the rail jet. When the train stops at the station, the platform will be almost completely cordoned by the train's cabs. In other words, when the train doors open, we'll have already surrounded them. Do I need to elaborate any further?"

"No ma'am." Ember sounded happy in a sinister sort of way that made Kay almost feel sorry for the battle droids waiting to kill them at the next station.

The monorail slowly skidded to a halt, and coiled around the platform, just as Kay Lee had said it would. Commander Lee motioned for the others to get behind her as she took her place in front of the entrance. The doors hissed open.

Kay Lee activated her lightsaber and the battle droids all turned at the sound and seemed to recoil when they saw her, but perhaps that was just a figment of her imagination. A yellow-marked commander robot stepped forward and raised its blaster so that it was level with her chest. "Target acquired. Blast the Republic dogs!"

Everyone exploded into movement simultaneously, the clones and Jedi in the different cabs attacking from all sides, while the droids scattered this way and that, isolating into small groups as they confusedly tried to identify their targets. As the droids advanced, Kay and her companions took out twelve in the front line, while several droids in the flanks were put out of commission by the soldiers situated in the other cabs surrounding the platform. As Kay sliced and cut the machines around her, she noticed an unusual flash of white light enter the fray of droids, followed by a much larger, dark-red blob wielding a flaming sword.

"Klamin, Heatrian, what the heck are you doing?" she yelled into her comlink. "You're supposed to stand your ground and draw the clankers in, not charge them! Stay in your car, where you can be protected."

"Tee-Dee! Tee-Dee!" Jys screamed.

"Tactical droid?" Kay Lee yelled back. "Where?"

"Point three from your location, ma'am. NHR; Klamin and Heatrian providing cover…"

Kay cut down a droid that came too close and signaled for the Onor and Wolf to flank her. "Go! Go!" They began to spring toward the orange and white lights. "Jys, do you copy? We're going in."

"NHR, ma'am! No Help Requir ––– AAAHHH!!!" The clone was cut off by a scream.

"Jys? Jys!" Kay shouted into her link, but she couldn't hear anything else over the roar of the battle. "Someone come in! Is Jys okay? What's his status?"

"HUD says he's still alive…or his body's still warm, at least," Onor reported succinctly.

"Klamin, Heatrian, come in! Do you see Jys?" Kay Lee demanded again. They were in the thick of the fray, and they could no longer see anything other than a sea of droids.

"Jys in. Sorry, Commander, I got banged up pretty good by a commando," Jys said apologetically. "The little grease bucket tried to strangle me! You can be sure I fixed him up right quick."

"We've got the tactical droid," Comet added.

"Are its memory banks still intact?" Kay inquired.

"I think so, ma'am; it didn't have quite enough time to trigger cyberostasis. I'll plug it into a power source in a second to make sure, but I'm guessing we should get plenty of Intel from this bucket."

"Where are you?"

"I see them, ma'am," Wolf said, pointing to the left. Thirty seconds later, an orangish-red shape broke through the droid lines, followed by three white-clad troopers and Klamin in Codru-ji shape. He shapeshifted from the werewolf being back into his original form when he saw Kay Lee.

"What's up?" the Shi'Odo quipped.

"Ember, we're pulling back," Kay said into the comlink.

"I'm guessing you've acquired the Tee-Dee?"

"That is correct."

"Well done, ma'am."

"Or not so well done," Kan broke in. "Kay Lee, they've just shut down the rail jet to prevent our escape; the train won't budge."

Klamin sighed. "Well, there goes our free ride out of here."

Heatrian picked up a battle droid leg and ripped off a piece with his teeth, chewing on it as if it were a nerf drumstick. "What's the GOOD old hurry?" he asked. "There are no negaquas around, and the food here is WICKED." He took another bite from the battle droid.

"What should we do?" Ember asked.

"I'll contact Adriaan and see where she is." Kay connected her link to Adriaan's and waited for the Jedi Knight to answer. As usual, Adriaan answered almost instantly.

"Sitrep."

"Objective completed."

"Ah, good," Adriaan said, slipping out of the world of military terminology, for once.

"They just shut down the rail jet; what should we do?"

"Can you fight your way out?"

"Ember?" Kay asked. Ember was also on the line.

"Your call, Commander," the clone said.

Kay Lee looked around. There were many droids, but the number was manageable. "Yes."

"Then start heading back for the scan gate; don't bother waiting for the rest of us to catch up. The information you have obtained may be the biggest Giju to catch on Umbria; that tactical droid head may be more valuable than General Grievous himself. You must leave before the gate is reactivated. Is that understood?"

"Completely. Any word from Red Squad?"

There was a pause. "No, no word. None from the command center, either."

That didn't sound good. "Should we be worried?"

Another pause, more uncomfortable this time.

"Adriaan?"

"It's not like Andora to delay a status report," Adriaan said finally. "I've called her twice, but her link was offline. I tried to contact all the clones with her, too; still no response. They may be too busy to answer the comlink, but I don't think that's it. I feel so strange; just moments ago I felt a deep pain in my heart, as if a knife had pierced it. Then I couldn't feel their presence in the Living Force ––– it was as if they had all disappeared. I'm afraid for them, Kay."

"We have enough time," Kay said. "Let us stay here and help you find them! Then we can take Grievous together!"

"No, Kay Lee, listen to me; you have to get that Intel back to the Republic. That is your first priority. Anyway, I have a good idea of where they ––– or what is left of them ––– might be. Andora and the clones were going to meet Aedan, Terry, Kien, and Minir at the command center. They should be there now, and that's where I'm going.

"If the scan gate is reactivated before I've made my escape, pull back as far away from the station as possible. Go north, and hide in the mountains until the Republic fleet arrives to pick you up. Don't activate a homing beacon, as that will only alert the CIS to your location; just wait for the GAR to find you. Is that understood?"

"Adriaan…"

"Is that understood?!"

Kay swallowed hard. "Yes."

Adriaan was quiet for a minute on the other end. "May the Force be with you," she said tersely, and she cut off the communication.

Kay Lee turned off the comlink, and immediately felt an overwhelming sense of devitalization wash over her. She realized that if Adriaan didn't return, she would be in charge, and that terrible possibility of being responsible for so many lives weighed her down considerably.

"Commander," Ember said gently. "I suggest we leave the rail jet now."

With a heroic effort, she dispelled her ruminations of self-pity and turned her attention to the more urgent matter at hand. "All right. Any idea how we might go about that?"

"You haven't suddenly thought of another brilliant plan?"

"Nah, I'll let you handle this objective."

There was a brief pause as Ember did a couple of quick calculations. "All right. Stand by; the rest of us are going in."

The members of QRF that had remained on the train wasted no time cutting a pathway through the roiling mass of battle droids to join Kay's team, whose members had formed a defensive circle around her as she had held the comlink conference with Adriaan. Ember nodded at Kay and gave his clone brothers a hand signal. "Shadow Squad, Anooba, phalanx position."

This time, Kay didn't need an explanation. Anoobas were wolf-like creatures that hunted in packs, and she had learned from her ancient military history textbooks how soldiers were arranged in a phalanx. While Wolf, Shakir, and Ember pointed out to the other Padawans their positions, and herded the more intellectually challenged ––– that is to say, Jahn Pal and Sai'wer ––– to their places, Kay took her position in the front row, with the eight other Apprentices. Their lightsabers would form a shield barrier to protect the clones behind them.

"Come on!" Kay yelled, running forward.

"Let's go get killed!" Heatrian yelled, always encouraging.

"WICKED!" Nic laughed.

"I need to use the 'freshers," Jahn Pal whined.

"I did a while ago, but I don't have to now," Sai'wer added cheerfully.

"For the WICKED King!" Andre shrieked.

"For Honor and Glory!" Darc shouted enthusiastically.

"CHARGE!" Klamin screamed, not to be bested in a shouting contest.

The phalanx rushed forward as one unit, forcing its way through the battle droids. With a line of Jedi in front and a row of clones flanking him and another line behind him, Jys plugged the droid head into a portable charging pack and began to transfer the information from the memory banks to his datapad. As the data streamed onto the pad, Jys scrolled down, cursorily glancing through the files.

"Holy milking sith!" he exclaimed.

"What is it?" Klamin asked, diverting his attention from the battle to stare at the datapad.

"Jys! Pull yourself together!" Ember barked. "No one looks at the datapad until we are out of here!"

"But, sir, you have to see this…"

"Put it away!" Ember said sternly. "Now!"

"Sir yes sir!" Jys said with forced enthusiasm, reluctantly sliding the pad into his pack and taking out his blaster. "Sir, I don't think General ell Talaan should see the Intel we acquired."

Ember was so shocked that his next shot went wild, pinging harmlessly against the station wall. "Why shouldn't she see it? She's the General," he asked, taking aim again and dispatching his target, thoroughly annoyed at having to fire twice to hit a droid that had been standing right in his line of fire. "We can't refuse her access to that Intel. What's so dangerous about it?"

"Nothing, sir, it's just that she won't like it."

"What won't she like about it?"

"Sorry, sir, I can't really explain satisfactorily in this situation," Jys said. "The particular file I don't think she'll want to see is a CIS spy's report on GAR activity. If the information proves to be correct, the Republic has violated the Rights of Sentience in the Galactic Constitution.

"Most Intel turns out to be a bum scoop, unfortunately," Ember shrugged. "So there's a chance that it might be bad information."

"True." Jys paused. "By the way, Captain, I expect that after this mission you'll be promoted to a Marshal Commander."

"Why do you say that?"

"There is much more information stored in the droid's memory banks, information that could very well turn the tide of the war in the Republic's favor."


	25. Enemies Turned to Ashes

Chapter 25

They had been fighting for so long now that they were forced to attack in relays, one going in to strike, giving the other a chance to have a breather. Grievous' strength was unflagging, for though he was partially organic, he was not limited by the needs of a living creature. He did not require rest. They just had to keep battling until they caught him off-guard and finished him off, or until someone else came to relieve them.

Aedan was exhausted physically, and his brain seemed to be switched off. His mind was in a comatose state, traumatized by the sudden deaths of his three closest companions. It was Andora who proved to be the more spirited of the two, urging him on when he felt like giving up, and cheering enthusiastically whenever he seemed to get the upper hand over his opponent. She was proving to be as proficient a sidekick as Terry had been.

Nevertheless, Aedan knew that the battle would have to be over soon, or he and his sister would both collapse from exhaustion. "Where the GOOD is Adriaan?" Aedan yelled, clutching his ribs as cramps racked his sides.

For once, Andora didn't lambaste him for calling their Master by her first name. "I am not apprised of her locale," she called back, neatly deflecting a two-sword thrust from Grievous. "I lost correspondence with her when the General slew my cadre and crippled my portable broadcasting system."

Grievous suddenly came at Andora with a burst of speed, pushing her onto the defensive. He lunged ever closer until she was forced to the ground. Aedan straightened with a struggle and weakly stepped to help his sister, but his knees gave way and he was left leaning against the wall, watching helplessly as the General stood gloatingly over his sister.

"It seems that your Master has fled after all," Grievous told her.

Aedan, calling on the Force, suddenly found the strength he was looking for and used it to leap protectively in front of his twin, shielding her from the terrible Knight Slayer.

"Even if she does come, we won't WICKEDLY need her help," Aedan said fiercely.

"She will emerge," Andora insisted. "I can perceive her; the bond between pedagogue and protégé is potent…more potent even than you, Grievous. We will vanquish you in the end. Concede conquest now, and you won't have to undergo the repercussions with our Master."

"We'll see about that," Grievous said, and he renewed the battle with a Makashi swipe. Aedan switched his right lightsaber to a reversed grip and slashed wide, herding Grievous out of the command center. Driving the General back, he employed the combat technique of Djem So, also called the Way of the Krayt Dragon. The fifth form developed for lightsaber combat, it was one of the more aggressive styles of fighting, and required great strength and speed. It was a good counterattack against the Makashi form.

Grievous tried to gain some ground by swiping at Aedan with a Shii-Cho sarlacc sweep, but Aedan only parried the attack and came at Grievous with a prompt dual-saber lunge. Grievous stepped back, slashed again, then turned and ran the last couple of steps to the turbolift at the end of the hall. As Aedan charged forward, Grievous quickly pressed a few buttons, and the doors shut him from view.

"No!" Aedan yelled charged headlong into the shut turbolift. His skull smacked against the hard duracrete, and he reeled away in agony. He recovered quickly, however, and turned to stampede again, but Andora stopped him.

"Aedan, incline!" she said, giving her brother microseconds to duck before she sent ten durasteel bins crashing against the turbolift shell. The doors sagged and crumpled into a twisted heap of metal. Dodging flying shrapnel, Aedan ran forward and demolished the turbolift control, but it was too late. The lift had already ascended, carrying the General out of their reach.

Aedan screamed again, punching the air with his fist, but Andora remained phlegmatic. "Make haste," she said calmly, and with one swift move kicked the destroyed doors open and leaped into the shaft. Aedan, for once following someone else's lead, jumped in after her to see how far up their quarry had gone.

"We'll have to WICKEDLY climb," Aedan said, pointing to the walls of the shaft. But Andora had other ideas. She withdrew her liquid cable launcher and shot it overhead, hitting the bottom of the turbolift on first try. The line drew taut, and the Padawan began to rise into the air.

"Affix your cable to the lift!" she shouted as she rose even higher in the shaft. "Hasten, before it gets out of ambit!"

"I can't! I don't own any GOOD old cable launcher!" Aedan said.

Andora let out a whoosh of exasperation. "Some Padawan you turned out to be. Climb on."

Aedan Force-leaped up and grabbed on to Andora's utility belt. Andora hit the recoil button on the cable, and they slowly rose closer and closer to the turbolift. Finally, they reached it. Aedan withdrew his lightsaber and began to cut a hole through the bottom of the lift. Immediately, the turbolift stopped climbing and began to drop rapidly as Grievous realized that they were right under his feet. No doubt his plan was to squash them before they had cut their way through.

He needn't have bothered; in twenty seconds Aedan had gotten the hole cut open, and he swung himself up inside the lift feet first. He nearly got his legs sliced off by Grievous, who had been waiting at the hole with all four lightsabers poised for the kill. Aedan dodged the quadruple-blow just in time, however, and managed to score a glancing hit on Grievous' shin before twirling away and helping Andora into the lift. The two young warriors faced the war machine, their faces nearly touching in the cramped space of the elevator. They barely had any room to move, let alone swing a saber.

"Well, this should be WICKEDLY interesting," Aedan said, parrying Grievous' first attack, and counterattacking with a quick two-handed double cut. "Come on, what are you GOODLY waiting for?" he yelled at his companion, who had stood back to allow Aedan more room to swing.

"This is not a befitting venue for a sword confrontation," Andora said, and then she swung upward and scored open the escape hatch overhead. Aedan leaped back as the hatch fell through and landed on top of General Grievous. Taking advantage of the General's distraction, the twins jumped through the hole in the ceiling and stood on top of the lift, the drafts nearly flinging them off the elevator. They held on grimly, however, and waited for Grievous to emerge from below. Though they had switched to a more precarious stage for a battle, it was better than trying to fight in the cubbyhole excuse for a turbolift. Andora had either saved their lives again, or led them to the more gruesome fate of getting flattened between the shaft ceiling and the lift.

"Uppermost tier!" Andora yelled over the noise of the wind, jerking her head upward to indicate the entrance of the top floor, about thirty meters up. Grievous suddenly bounded through the hole and swung his lightsabers at them, but the twins leaped off the lift and clung to the walls of the shaft, using the momentum from the first leap to Force-jump up the last fifteen meters and swing themselves through the elevator portal, just barely missing getting crushed by the swiftly ascending turbolift. Unfortunately, Grievous had used a liquid cable to launch himself through the entrance after them, so their opponent, too, had avoided getting squashed into a quivering, pulpy mass.

The top floor of the station had neither ceiling nor walls; it was on the outer hull of the base, exposed to the elements of Umbria. Even though they had been moving nonstop, the time spent in the turbolift seemed to have helped Aedan and Andora find their second breath. So they turned and fought together now, perfectly in sync as they strived to push Grievous off the edge of the parlous terrain. The wind up there blew fiercely, threatening to knock them off the building, but they were not afraid. The howling air only served to cool their hot and sweaty bodies, refreshing them and helping them gain even more strength than before. Nevertheless, Grievous still had the advantage over them, for they could not keep their footing on the hull's slick surface, whereas Grievous' feet had claws to grip the smooth panels. Aedan and Andora had found their grit and energy, yes, but General Grievous was still the stronger swordsman.

Then, at the same moment, Aedan and Andora felt the Force surge. _I'm here, _a voice seemed to tell them. The twins looked at each other, eyes alit with unexpected hope.

Adriaan was close.

Just then a gust of wind shook the station, lifting all three warriors into the air. Grievous managed to snag the control panel to the turbolift with the tip of his claw, while Andora and Aedan used the Force to propel themselves towards a series of antennae sticking out of the hull. Andora's rod was strong enough to hold her, but Aedan had reached for a flimsier wire, which broke off in his hand and sent him catapulting off the edge of the station.

"Andora!"

His sister let go of the antenna with one hand and just barely seized Aedan by the finger before he was thrown to his death. Aedan reached over with his other arm and gripped Andora's utility belt as they floated in midair, hanging on for dear life as they waited for the tempest to subside.

There was another blast of cold air as the turbolift doors were suddenly thrown open, and then Adriaan was there, lightsabers in hand. Her eyes locked on Grievous' golden, reptilian orbs, and a mutual spark of recognition briefly ignited both faces. The moment lasted barely a second, however, for Adriaan turned away, attached her liquid cable to the turbolift, and let go of the elevator handle.

She flew out into the tract, the cable jerking taut and keeping her from flying off the building altogether. Properly secured, she made her way across the space and held out a hand to Andora. "Reach!" she shouted over the shrieking of the wind.

"No!" Grievous roared, suddenly thrusting himself forward and getting his feet back on the hull. He took two steps and sliced the cable in half with one clean stroke, leaving Adriaan to waft away in the boreas. Luckily, Adriaan had had the sense to grab an antenna before she was sent overboard. The Jedi Knight pivoted in midair and threw her red lightsaber at the General, separating his legs from his body. Grievous went flying through the air, too, and would have fallen off had he not caught hold of the turbolift again.

"You'll pay for this, ell Talaan!" he yelled. "Someday, you and your little brats will die miserably for this outrage!"

"We're not her brats!" Aedan said indignantly. "My name is Aedan, though my real name is WICKED WICKED TRULY WICKED AEDAN KENOBI WICKED KING OF WICKED OF WICKEDS, and you'd better not forget it!"

Grievous wasn't listening; he and Adriaan were in a staring contest, glaring at each other murderously. "I suppose you don't remember me, do you, Adriaan?" Grievous said softly.

"I do, Qymaen jai Sheelal, Hero of Kalee," Adriaan said.

Then she let go of the antenna and jumped off the CIS station.

* * *

The wind was so strong that at first Adriaan wasn't even falling. The air currents actually carried her up about two hundred meters, and out past the convex hull, before the force of gravity took over and sent her into free fall.

She lost her stomach as she plummeted for the ground, the wind rippling the skin on her face. It was an uncontrolled drop, her body flipping over and over through space. But Adriaan was a Jedi, and accustomed to great leaps off tall buildings. Slowly, she terminated her body's wild somersaulting, and set herself up so that she was plunging head downward ––– in divers' position ––– toward the terra firma.

"W-W-W-I-I-I-C-C-C-K-K-K-E-E-E-D-D-D!!!"

Aedan and Andora were close by; they called out to her through the Force, asking her what to do. The jump they had made had been pure suicide; not even a Jedi could land without splattering all over the duracrete. Adriaan had well known that before she had walked off the building, so why had she done it?

When she and the prisoners had found the stash of kit in Grievous' quarters, none of them had declined from putting on a jetpack. Ember had been the one to suggest it ––– the packs were good for making quick entrances and exits ––– and Adriaan was glad that she had taken the clone's advice and opted to gear up with a jetpack. She had taken a lighter model, equipped with fuel tanks that would only last for about fifteen minutes. However, that was way more than enough power to execute a safe landing, even with the twins' added weight. All three of them had lean, athletic builds, and the four days without proper nourishment had found them even thinner than usual. Yes, the jetpack would ensure that they would touch down safely.

Using the Force to locate her Padawans, Adriaan reached out blindly with both hands and maneuvered in midair, catching Aedan by the ankle and Andora by the wrist on her first try. The two Padawans immediately curled over and clung to her for all they were worth.

Adriaan looked down. They were about two kilometers above the ground. Already, she could see the faint black dots of people moving through the station portal. The Force surged. Kay Lee; QRF had made it out.

One thousand, five hundred meters to go until they smacked their heads on the pavement. _Now or never._ Releasing her hold of Andora momentarily, she whipped her arm around her back and pulled the switch that ignited the jetpack.

The pack sputtered and roared to life, the flames searing her unarmored legs with an intense heat as the pack gently slowed their alarmingly fast descent. Finally, they stopped falling altogether and hung in space as the pack struggled to ascend with the combined weight of one teenager and two small children. Most jetpacks were capable of carrying two full-grown adults, but this pack was meant for emergency takeoffs, so it wasn't very efficient. Nevertheless, it would serve its purpose. Adriaan tapped the button that put the jetpack in descent mode, and they dropped again, falling at a much steadier pace. Assured that their plummet was now under control, Adriaan swung her arm back around and clasped Andora under the armpits, keeping a hold on Aedan in the same way. Hugging the twins close to her body, she twisted in the air so that all three of them would touchdown feet first.

The meters seemed to fly by the second, and it wasn't long before Adriaan's feet thankfully touched solid ground, and she set the twins down. The trio stared at each other, disbelieving their good fortune. Then their knees buckled, and all three of them sank to the floor, shaking and almost sobbing with relief.

"That was pretty WICKED," Aedan croaked.

"Sure was," Adriaan said, managing a smile.

"The Force was with us," Andora said simply, seeming to regain her former dignity.

"Yes." Adriaan stood up, brushing her tunic down. Then she looked at the Padawans. "They're dead, aren't they," she said quietly. The twins gazed up at her, their eyes bright with unshed tears. Slowly, as one, they nodded.

Adriaan's shoulders slumped, her heart heavy. She had felt their passing in the Force, of course, but for some reason, the terrible reality of it didn't seem to sink in until a living witness brought the tidings of death. It didn't seem real, but she knew that Kien, Minir, Terry, Delta, Vikk, Tau, and Brannd were gone.

"How?" she asked, though she almost couldn't bear to hear the answer.

"General Grievous," the siblings said together. There was silence after that; there really was nothing else to say.

"General ell Talaan!" a male voice suddenly shouted, breaking the stillness.

Adriaan let out the breath she had been holding when she caught sight of Jys, Wolf, Shakir, and Comet leaving the security level and running toward her.

_At least they're safe. At least I still have them, and my other Padawans._

"Ma'am, why are you just standing around out here?" Wolf asked politely, but she could sense his annoyance at her for delaying to escape the station. She had ordered the others to leave as quickly as possible, whereas she had let down her guard was just standing around, a perfect target for any droid in the vicinity.

"_Udesii_ _Wolf'ika, _I'm getting my _shebs _out of here," she said in Mando'a, gesturing for the twins to get going as she turned around and broke into a run after the clones. "Translation: _Udesii _means 'easy' and _shebs, _ah, means 'rear end'…"

"This is not the time for a Mando'a lesson, General. Where are the other Apprentices? Where's the rest of Red Squad? They have to get out of here now!"

"KIA," Adriaan said quietly.

Wolf stiffened noticeably. "Oh," he said, in a much different tone of voice. "Oh, no, ma'am." He had the helmet on, but she knew him well enough now to know that he was struggling to be brave and not break down and cry in the middle of a mission. From the slight sag in the shoulders of the other three clones, she could tell that they, too, were sorely feeling the loss of the four clones in Red Squad.

"The Tee-Dee we caught was a jackpot of Intel," Jys said, clearing his throat. "I started to peruse the memory banks, but Ember caught me at it and told me to stop."

"Oh," Adriaan tried to focus. "Did you see anything interesting before you had to put it away?"

"Plenty. For one, General Grievous is planning to invade Kuat in three weeks' time."

"Kuat?" Adriaan stopped in her tracks. Kuat was in a sector near the Deep Core, and a member of the Galactic Republic. The planet was the base of Kuat Drive Yards, the largest military shipbuilding corporation in the galaxy. Though its parent organization was the Techno Union ––– a corporation loyal to the Separatist faction ––– its subsidiary company, Rothana Heavy Engineering, was responsible for the design and construction of many of the GAR's assault craft and dogfighters. If Grievous managed to capture Kuat, he would have effectively crippled the GAR fleet. The loss of Kuat would affect the ground troops as well, for KDY was also responsible for producing the majority of ground transports, so without the tanks to protect them the clone troops would be left to the mercy of the superior firepower of the Separatists.

"Kuat? That is singularly abysmal tidings," Andora stated.

"Good thing we picked up that Intel before the invasion started." Three weeks; the Republic would have three weeks to figure out a way to stop the invasion of Kuat before it transpired. Grievous was getting bold indeed if he planned on attacking a planet near the heart of the Galactic Republic.

"According to the tactical droid, the invasion was initiated a month ago," Jys corrected.

"How can that be? We've heard no reports of an invasion in the Deep Core."

"It appears that the Seppies planted a spy or spy network in Kuat; there's records of regular reports on weak points in Kuati security being sent to Grievous. They're probably going to sabotage the Shipyards so that the CIS fleet can invade."

"We'll figure that out when the time comes. Right now we need to focus on getting that information off-planet."

They were about twenty meters from the scan gate. They were nearly out. They would be all right. Once they had passed the checkpoint, they could get down to business and start a more thorough perusal of the tactical droid's datafiles. The scan gate just had to stay deactivated for a few more seconds…

_We have a head start on General Grievous. We're fine. We'll get out of this._

Why did she suddenly feel so frightened?

The scan gate now. It was ten meters thick. Ten meters to go. Aedan and Andora, relieved that their painful tribulation with Grievous was finally over, hurried through to join the Padawans and clones on the other side. She could hear voices calling ––– Kay Lee and Klamin and Kan and Marya and Heatrian and Jahn Pal and Sai'wer and Nic and Andre cheering them on, urging them to go through…

Adriaan passed the checkpoint.

Wolf was just a few steps behind her; Jys and the others were lagging behind, exhausted from the ordeal. Wolf had insisted that she had gone ahead of them. He was afraid of the scan gate, too.

"Ma'am, there's something else you should know. The reason the CIS are equipping themselves with negaquas…"

"Jys, we're going to make it. Take it easy!" she snapped. Why did she feel so irascible, so suddenly impatient to get things moving? It was the news of the impending invasion of Kuat that had upset her, no doubt. She couldn't be distracted by that, she needed to concentrate on getting that information to the Jedi Council…

"Ma'am, I think Jys should give you the datafiles now," Wolf said urgently.

"No, Wolf, we're fine. We're out…"

Then she heard it; a faint clicking sound from behind, as if a door had just been closed. This was followed by a low, resonant hum, which increased in noise until it became the lusty throbbing of a podracer engine. A surge of heat blasted her back, leaving her with the macabre sensation of being covered in third-degree burns, though she hadn't been touched by fire.

"Oh, no, oh, Fierfek."

That was Wolf, and Adriaan suddenly knew what had happened, and she knew that she wouldn't want to stop and turn back to make sure. But she knew that she had to, and she did.

"_Shab,_" she said, and then she turned and ran, ignoring the tears streaming down her face.

The scan gate had been reactivated when Jys, Shakir, and Comet had been inside. They were dead.


	26. The Fires of Death

**_Su'cuy! _We're coming to the end of Book 4! Please enjoy what you read, and reviews are welcome.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own _Star Wars, _nor did I develop the Mando'a. However, I did compose the song Adriaan sings following _Vode An. _Do you guys like _The Fires of Death_? Let me know!**

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Chapter 26

Adriaan knew that she had things to do, but she didn't care. No one cared; everyone had become like dead men. No one ate, talked, or slept. They had hidden in the mountain ranges in the North for five days before the Republic retrieval squad had found them. Emaciated, dejected, and ready to die, they had been led back to a trooper gunship, which had taken them to the Republic cruiser called the _Victory. _There, they had all undergone bacta treatment, to cleanse their bodies of any diseases they may have picked up on Umbria. They had then been given quarters isolated from the main barracks. Who was in command of the ship, Adriaan did not know. He was a clone, she knew, because she had been taken to the bridge to speak to him, but she had been too brain-dead to ask for his name. As far as she knew, no one had asked; they were all tired, and they didn't care.

It was all her fault. All ten deaths: Terry, Kien, Minir, Tau, Delta, Comet, Brannd, Jys, Vikk, Shakir ––– they had all died because she had been a stupid general. She shouldn't have ever left them alone; she should have gone with Red Squad to bring the lightsabers to the command center. She should have been at the command center to defend her Padawans against General Grievous. She should have let the clones run ahead of her, instead of letting them lag behind. She should have taken the datapad containing the copy of the tactical droid's memory banks, instead of letting Jys carry it. She should have gone immediately to fight Grievous, instead of delaying the confrontation. There were so many things that she should have done, but did not do. She should be shot for being so incompetent. She should be demoted to the rank of a Sergeant, at the very least.

No one demoted her, and no one shot her. She was still General ell Talaan of Ade Verda Legion, because no one cared.

"Ma'am."

Adriaan looked up to see a clone naval officer standing stiffly at attention. It was the commander of the _Victory _––– clone Commander Nibral. So she _had _paid attention to the clone's name, after all. Nibral. Adriaan felt a surge of fury overtake her. Nibral was Mando'a for "loser" Who had given him such a name? He was no failure, but Adriaan was. Who had named her "Lightning in the Storm"? Surely Nibral was a more suitable name for her.

"Incoming transmission from Triple Zero," Nibral announced, awaiting her consent to put the message through. She nodded, knowing that she couldn't avoid her duty any longer, and he pressed a button on the console that activated the message.

"General ell Talaan, we have received a report of your mission," Master Windu began.

"I failed, Masters."

"Blame yourself for Grievous' escape, you will not," Yoda said.

"Yet I will take the blame for the casualties that resulting from this 'blue-milk run'" Adriaan said bitterly, mocking her words before the mission.

"Casualties are inevitable in a war, General," Windu said. "It is not necessarily your fault."

"Many Padawans, you lost; sense their deaths, I did," Yoda said. "Gone are Terry, Kien, and Minir."

"Yes, I lost ten, seven of which were killed by Grievous," Adriaan replied, struggling to keep her voice neutral. "The other three were incinerated by the scan gate as we were escaping. I feel that I could have prevented any of this from happening, if I had only kept them by my side…"

"'If' there is not," Yoda scolded.

"I'm sorry, Master, I'm not myself at the moment. I've lost so many men: Vikk, Jys, Comet, Brannd…"

"We grieve for your clones' deaths," Windu interrupted. "But it is of the lost Padawans were wish to hear more about."

Adriaan stared. "Excuse me?"

"Clones die all the time, General," Windu said. "It is inexorable; they are soldiers. They live to fight. We feel great pain that they die so frequently, but clone casualties are not the Jedi Council's priority. We need only to hear the deaths of our own, ell Talaan. I'm sorry."

Adriaan couldn't believe this. The Jedi way was to respect and care for all life, including the lives of clones. They didn't value any species or society over the other; all beings were equal in their sight. "I lost Tau and Delta, the inseparable," Adriaan said, ignoring Mace's request. "Comet, who could fly as well as a Jedi; Jys, the best scout in the five oh third; Vikk, who loved spicy food; Brannd, a pyromaniac. They're just as important to me as my Padawans; all the clones in Shadow Squad are. They're my boys, my brothers. They may not be my Apprentices, but it is nevertheless my sworn duty to train and protect them."

"Well said," Mace Windu conceded. "I apologize, General, for my dismissal of the clone casualties. With this war going on, with so many people dying, it's easy to become immune to deaths of people you hardly know."

It was rare indeed for a Council member to apologize ––– not because they were arrogant, but because they rarely did things that called for repentance ––– but Adriaan was too upset with her own failure to take much notice. "It is I who should apologize, Master Windu," Adriaan said. "I failed to complete the objective; I let Grievous escape. I barely even fought him. I must return to Umbria immediately and catch him…"

"Fled Umbria, Grievous has," Yoda told her. "Sent another Jedi team after him, we have. Your assistance, require it we do not. Rest for the next few days, you must. Honor the fallen during this time, you will."

"The best way I can honor the dead is by completing the mission that had cost them their lives," Adriaan interrupted. "My Padawans and the squad can take a break if they need it, but I need to go after Grievous _now_. Where is he hiding?"

"Master ell Talaan, your attitude is inexcusable for a Jedi of your repute," Windu said sternly. "I think it best that you temporarily leave the warfront and come back to the Jedi Temple to reflect on your attitude. All Jedi are required to go on a meditative retreat, and your time for one is long overdue."

Adriaan stared. "You'd have me forsake my companions for the sake of a _meditative_ _retreat_?"

"Take your Padawans with you, you can," Yoda amended. "Good for them, a vacation from war would be."

"Masters, I have nothing against my Padawans going on a meditative retreat, but I cannot be taking leave while my own troops get no time themselves for rest and relaxation. If I am to go on retreat, give my troops a furlough as well."

"I'm afraid the Council is not authorized to do that," Mace said.

"But you're supposed to be one of the commanding officers of the Republic army; surely you have the jurisdiction to grant my soldiers just a few days of leave. They need the rest, and if you won't give it to them, I will just have to bend the rules and let them go AWOL."

"Angry and desperate, you have become," Yoda said. "Attachments you have formed with your troops. The Jedi way, this is not."

"Masters, it has become increasingly obvious to me that one cannot be both a good Jedi and a good military officer," Adriaan blurted out. "Jedi are keepers of the peace, not soldiers ––– you said that yourself, Master Windu, did you not?"

The Jedi Masters exchanged looks. "If that is so, which life do you choose?" Mace countered.

Adriaan paused. "I think," she said carefully, "I think that ––– for now, at least ––– my priority should be being a competent General, instead of a proper Jedi."

"Adriaan, think well on your words, you must," Yoda warned. "Your mouth get you into trouble, too often it does. Learn, you must, the power of silence."

"I cannot keep the truth silent," Adriaan replied. "When we chose to lead the Grand Army of the Republic, we all chose to be officers instead of Jedi."

* * *

Kan stood with dry eyes among the congregation of troops and Jedi, passively watching the flaming pyre burn in honor of the comrades who had fallen on Umbria. The bodies had been impossible to retrieve, so they had just had to make do with an empty pyre. There were no possessions to remember the dead by, no holos to prove their previous existence. Except for the small, ragtag group huddled in around the funeral fire, no one knew that the ten who had died on Umbria had ever been born.

Adriaan stood with folded arms at the head of the group, dressed in a plain black military suit, blond hair cropped short. Gone were the long hair and proper Jedi attire. Rumor had circulated that she had had another infamous argument with the Jedi Council, so she was openly stating her rebelliousness by wearing nontraditional garb. Kan sincerely hoped Adriaan hadn't gone all the way and quit the Order. They had their disagreements, but Kan felt he owed Adriaan a debt for her agreement to become his Master. They didn't get along anymore, but Kan still depended on her. She was his only hope at becoming a Jedi Knight.

"_Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adc, ni partayli, gar darasuum Shektaraysh, Cuir, Tracyn, Parjai, Ka'ra, Tor, Jahaala, Kad'la, Nuhuna, bal Vhekad," _Adriaan chanted in Mando'a. "I'm alive, but you are dead. I remember you, so you are eternal, Tau, Delta, Brannd, Vikk, Comet, Jys, Shakir, Kien, Minir, and Terry. The Force is with you and with us; you and the Force are one. Someday, we will meet again. Someday, we who are still alive will be joined with the Force."

What was up with Adriaan speaking Mando'a? She wasn't Mandalorian; she was a Jedi. She couldn't be both, for the Mandalorians and the Jedi were traditional enemies, adversaries even before the formation of the Republic. Jango Fett had been a Mandalorian, and he had worked for the Seps. What did Adriaan mean by speaking an enemy language? Was she showing everyone where her true allegiances lay?

"Ma'am," Ember spoke up softly. "Do you mind if we sing _Vode An_? It's a war chant, but I think it functions quite well as a lament, too."

Adriaan nodded, her eyes reflected blood-red in the fire's angry, consuming light.

Ember nodded at his men, who stepped into line and clicked their heels together, as if they were about to begin a military drill. They began to beat out the rhythm by drumming their fists on their chest plates. Then, as one, they began to sing:

"_Kote! _

_Kandosii sa ka'rta, Vode an. _

_Coruscanta a'den mhi, Vode an. _

_Bal kote, darasuum kote, _

_Jorso'ran kando a tome. _

_Sa kyr'am nau tracyn kad, Vode an. _

_Kandosii sa ka'rta, Vode an. _

_Coruscanta a'den mhi, Vode an. _

_Bal…_

Kan felt the hairs on his neck rise. The sonorous baritone voices of the clones, coupled with the haunting tone of the song, was spine-chilling. His heart started to pound, and he suddenly felt cold all over. The song was more frightening than invigorating; more for fey men, doomed to die, than soldiers trying to get psyched up for a battle. It caused his thoughts to turn to death, and Ruru, instead of glory in battle.

_"Kan. My young Padawan. Kan Enik. Kan."_

_ He saw his Master, lying in the blood-red dirt of Geonosis. He was curled up into a ball, as if he were just asleep. If it weren't for the crimson fountain spouting from the hole in his chest, Kan might have believed that Ruru was, indeed, just asleep…_

_ "Motir ca'tra nau tracinya. _

_Gra'tua cuun hett su dralshy'a. _

_Aruetyc runi solus cet o'r. _

_Motir ca'tra nau tracinya. _

_Gra'tua cuun hett su dralshy'a. _

_Aruetyc runi trattok'o. _

_Sa kyr'am nau tracyn kad, Vode an!"_

Suddenly, a woman's voice entered the fray.

_ "Glory!_

_One indomitable heart, Brothers all!"_

The voice was unlike any Kan had ever heard before. It was like the soft falling of silvery raindrops upon shiny emerald leaves. It was the voice of a fire-sprite, free-spirited and pure, and the last person Kan expected to be the owner of that voice was his own Master.

But it was her that was singing. It was Adriaan ell Talaan who had the voice of gold.

Everyone in the group stared at Adriaan ell Talaan, their mouths hanging agape. The creature who stood before them singing with a voice as clear and fresh and vibrant as a moonlit night seemed alien, unlike the General they were accustomed to. This was a different side of Adriaan they could only glimpse and wonder at. It was the real Adriaan ell Talaan.

The clones stumbled in the rhythm of the chant, shocked at the sound of a soprano female's voice, which contrasted piercingly with the resonant tones of the male chorus. However, when Adriaan faltered in the sudden silence, they started again, this time in Basic.

"_Glory!_

_One indomitable heart, Brothers all. _

_We, the wrath of Coruscant, Brothers all. _

_And glory, eternal glory, _

_We shall bear its weight together. _

_Forged like the saber in the fires of death, Brothers all. _

_One indomitable heart, Brothers all. _

_We, the wrath of Coruscant, Brothers all._

_And…_

_Those who stand before us light the night sky in flame. _

_Our vengeance burns brighter still. _

_Every last traitorous soul shall kneel. _

_Those who stand before us light the night sky in flame. _

_Our vengeance burns brighter still. _

_Every last traitorous soul shall fall. _

_Forged like the saber in the fires of death, Brothers all!"_

It was not a chant that inspired men to be brave; it was a dirge for those who had died. It was a rallying call devised to strike terror into the hearts of their enemies. A requiem of men marching to fight against hopeless odds. A song of death. Ember was right; it was more of a threnody than a marching tune. Kan found himself blinking back tears when the keening stopped.

_Vode An _may have been over, but Adriaan was not finished. As the last words of the song faded away, she started on a different note, and switched to Mando'a, the language of Jango Fett, the clone troopers' "father"

_Kyr'am tracyn hettir mhi an_

_Kando be kote atin'la bah jorir._

_Cuun ka'rtase brokar solus sa mhi taabir_

_bah tal'galaar par hut'uune._

_Naasade n'ulu meg mhi'cuyir_

_Naasade n'ulu meg ven'mhi cuyir_

_Naasade n'ulu par Vode mhi ganar echoy'la _

_Par narser beh b'ash'ad vercopa_

_Kyr'am tracyn hettir mhi an_

_sa mhi tal'onidir par auretiise_

_Mhi darmav akaan'ade beh shabla Tsad Droten_

_A cuun tal'onidir cuun kartase mav!_

"Let us also remember and honor today the men who gave their lives during the CIS occupation of the Syleeto system," Adriaan said, her voice ringing in the vast emptiness of the hangar bay. She was crying now, and everyone began to shift uncomfortably, for Adriaan never cried. She was always so pragmatic and calm; never before had she given way to grief and pain. "Today, I wish to honor the death of Commander Urak, whose services I did not duly appreciate. He died during the invasion of the Kiyp Belt, and in my lack of compassion I took no time to mourn for the dead. Urak, I wish to make up for that now. Forgive me, for the evil I have done you.

"'Those who stand before us light the night sky in flame. Our vengeance burns brighter still.' I swear by the lightsaber I built with my own hands, I will avenge every clone's and Padawan's life that was taken in this war. This is my promise to you; the Separatists and the sith will pay for what they have done."

The Padawans exchanged significant glances, but they were too afraid to speak up. They knew that the vow Adriaan was binding herself to was wrong, and would lead her to the dark side, but something in her face held them back. Her bright blue, gold-flecked eyes shone with a fey light; her face was bloodless, her expression calm. She looked like a ghost.

Kan felt something inside him crumble as he looked at his Master. Something in her had died that day, and he knew that she would never be the same again.

Even though she remained by his side, Kan felt alone, for he knew that he was losing her.

* * * * *

Wolf tore the armor panels from his body glove, threw his kit on his bunk and sat down on top of it, staring blankly at the wall. He hadn't spoken for days; there was nothing left for him to say. There was no reason to even continue his existence any longer. Wolf had never seriously contemplated suicide before ––– he had always figured that the Seppies would do the job for him if he ever wanted to die ––– but after this mission, he didn't see any reason why he should not take away his life. He hadn't chosen to live, he hadn't chosen to become a clone, he hadn't chosen to be a slave soldier boy who protected a corrupt government that didn't really care for him, but he _could_ make the choice to end his life, here and now.

Wolf no longer wanted to live because he just couldn't stand to watch another brother die. He just couldn't. He had seen many clones expire ––– in all different and in all horrible ways possible ––– but how Jys, Comet and Shakir had perished seemed the worst of all. One moment they had been there; the next, they were gone, leaving nothing behind for anyone to remember them by. The memory of it was killing him day by day.

Cor, who had been stretched out on the bunk next to Wolf's, sat up and began to thunk Wolf on the head with his bare foot. "Hey, Wolf, sleeping?"

Wolf grunted.

"Better get some, _vod_, 'cause we'll be shipping out of here for another mission by tomorrow, knowing the GAR," Cor said, his voice tinged with bitterness.

"I'll be dead by then," Wolf muttered, but luckily Cor's attention had been turned to the arrival of their Captain, who had just strode through the door in full gear.

"Atten-SHUN!" Onor barked, and the boys that lay sprawled on their bunks jumped hastily out of bed to give their Captain a deferential salute.

Ember waved at them to stay at ease. "You boys have had enough time on your feet," he said, taking off his helmet, revealing a sweaty, exhausted, yet pleased face. "I'm about to receive a call from little Rez, and I thought you grunts would like to hear him."

Cor groaned and covered his ears. "Oh, please, Ember; since when have we found the sound of Rez's voice pleasant?" But everyone knew that Cor's insouciant comment was a guise to hide his relief at finding that Rez had made it through the Nebula. He and Rez had always been close friends, and the separation had been gnawing at Cor lately, making him irascible.

"Heard that, you Hutt spawn," Ember's comlink chirped.

Cor grinned. "Good."

"Well, in that case, I guess you don't want to hear this absolutely hilarious joke I learned from the chaps in Reek Battalion…"

"Are they named 'reek' after the animal, or because they stink?" Skipp quipped.

"Both. Hey, Skipp, is that you? I swear your voice has gotten one hundred and sixty-seven phons louder," Rez shouted.

"Nerd," Cor jeered. "Who the heck knows what a 'phon' is anyway?"

"A phon is a unit of the perceived loudness of sounds," Nano supplied.

"Thanks, professor," Cor said. "Now, how 'bout that joke, huh?"

"Or," Wolf said, sitting up in bed, "how about we tell Rez that there are only thirteen members of Shadow Squad left?"

Ember gestured desperately at Wolf to shut it, but it was too late. There was a strangled cry on the other end, followed by a Chiss expletive. "Fierfek," Rez said, once he had composed himself again. "Ember, why didn't you contact me before?"

"We couldn't; we were stuck on Umbria for an entire week after the infiltration," Ember said gently. "I'm sorry, son."

There was a brief silence on the other end as Rez struggled with the news. "Who died?" he asked finally.

"It was…" Ember cleared his throat awkwardly and tried again. "It was Jys, Comet, Shakir, Tau, Delta, Vikk, and Brannd."

More silence. "Jys would've liked the joke Reek Battalion taught me," Rez said sadly. "It was such a good one-liner, too…in a bad sort of way. I was going to tell it to him when I got back, but now…"

"Rez, get it together," Ember said. "I know this news hit you rather hard, but I haven't slept in five days, so if you can't give me a proper sitrep, I'll have to contact you later…"

"No sir, I'm okay," Rez said with an effort. "That just hit me rather hard. Seven of us dead? How could it happen so quickly…"

"Death always comes when we least expect it."

"You're starting to sound like the General."

"Adriaan's a good girl; she's made of the right stuff. She's got the guts, but not the glory…not yet, anyway."

"She's an excellent General, an intelligent warrior, and a high-minded person, but for some reason the Jedi don't think she's so great. Jedi like General Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker are taking up the spotlight; they've reached celebrity status out here in the Core. The boys in Reek Battalion are absolutely raving about Kenobi's and Skywalker's numerous campaigns against the Seppies."

"Is that where you are right now? The Core?"

"Yeah. We're taking a _Pelta-_class medical frigate to Triple Zero."

"So the Padawan is still alive?"

"Jordin is alive, but in very bad condition. When the pod got out of the asteroid field, we were nearly captured by the Separatist fleet, but Captain Nibral got us aboard the _Victory _and had the girl checked into the medical facility. They chilled her down and inserted a shunt to drain out extraneous fluid, and they put her on a saline drip, but the medical droid clearly expressed its concern that she would not make a full recovery."

"Few patients with that sort of injury return to normal condition."

"I called you instead of General ell Talaan because even though Jordin is going to live, there are some complications. Basically, it will be a miracle if she ever regains consciousness."

"You mean she might be comatose for life?" That was horrible news. Jordin would probably never return to the warfront, or be able to continue her Jedi training. She could very well have to be put on permanent life support.

"I was allowed to represent her custodian in place of General ell Talaan, so I made the final decision to move her to Coruscant, where the Jedi Temple is located. I've heard that they have a medical facility at the Temple that is the best in the galaxy. The doctors there are Jedi, who have healed many seriously injured patients. I'm not expecting them to be miracle-workers, but I am confident that they will take better care of Jordin than any of the GAR-issued doctors."

"You're right; those GAR medics don't act like doctors at all. More like butchers."

"Hey, the med droid that examined her was really quite nice. At least it didn't give the usual recommendations for people with Jordin's condition ––– you know, 'you're a burden to society so you really should consider getting euthanized, blah-blah-blah.' Anyway, we came out of hyperspace ten minutes ago; that's why I called you. We'll be at the Jedi Temple within two hours. Will you relay this report on to the General? I'm not sure when I'll be available to contact you again."

"Affirmative. Take care, Rez. Have fun in Coruscant; don't spend all your time sitting in the waiting room of a hospital worrying about a comatose girl, understand?"

"Yessir. I'll contact you if there's any change in the situation."

"Copy that. Shadow Squad out." Ember closed the link and immediately whirled on Wolf. "Was there any call for that, trooper?" he demanded.

"What are you talking about?"

"You know what I'm talking about. You know how anxious Rez gets when he's separated from the squad, and you have to blurt out at once that seven of his brothers were killed? You didn't even say hello to him first, or give him fair warning. You just right up and slapped the news across his face with less tact than a HoloNet news announcer."

"You would have preferred that he not be told at all? That's just plain cruel, and you know it. He deserved to know."

"Yes, but what he didn't deserve was to be told in that way. You know how close he was to Jys."

"We were all close to Jys."

"Rez had no idea that it was coming…"

"Well, neither did we."

"At least we were there!" Ember shouted, in a rare display of temper. "Rez was the only one who wasn't with us when it happened, he was the only one who wasn't present at the memorial service, he thought everything was all right over here, so you shouldn't have broken the news to him so suddenly. He's the youngest in the squad, Wolf; he's not as used to death as we are."

"You can't get used to death."

"You can if it becomes a daily occurrence, and it is an extremely common hazard in war."

"Rez has seen people killed before."

"Yes, but he has never lost someone he has been particularly close to before. You have."

Wolf did not want to be reminded of that. "Stop assuming that having a friend die is easier to bear if you've experienced it in the past," he said angrily. "Because it isn't; past experiences make it a great deal worse."

"Well, it's not mine, Rez's, or anyone else's fault that some boys in your batch died in the live fire training exercises on Kamino, so stop making us suffer for it."

Wolf stood. "This conversation is over." He started for the door, but Ember stood in front of him.

"I'm not finished, trooper!" he said.

"Well, I am," Wolf said, and then he shoved his captain out of his way and ran out into the hallway, dodging crew members and clone troopers that filled the passageway. He randomly selected a room that was marked as unoccupied and ran inside, throwing himself facedown onto the unforgiving contours of the first bunk that he reached.

He dug his face into the datasheet-thin pillow, pulling the flimsy army blanket over his head to shut out the noise of outside. The sheet was too short to cover his entire body, so his lower half stuck out of the blanket. He didn't care; he had locked the door, so no one could come in and see him.

He didn't care if no one ever came. He just wanted to die.

* * * * *

"Wolf!" Ember ran out into the hall, knocking over several crew members and utility droids in his haste to catch the soldier. "Get back here!"

He rounded the corner just in time to see Wolf run into a room and slam the door. He hit the control panel and groaned to see that his brother had locked the door. "Open the door!" he yelled, kicking it with his booted leg.

"What's going on, Ember?"

Ember looked up to see Adriaan making her way down the hall toward him. Perfect; a Jedi just when he needed one. Adriaan's Force powers would have the door opened in a snap.

"It's Wolf," Ember said. "He, ah…well, it's a little hard to explain…"

The Jedi closed her eyes. "You don't need to tell me what's wrong. I already know. It's about what happened at the scan gate…"

"Yes ma'am. We're all upset about that, but we're just going to have to adapt. Except that Wolf _doesn't _want to adapt; he wants to stay mad forever, as if that will bring Jys and the others back to life. He's always been a bit strange. He didn't come from my batch; rumor has it that he was the last surviving member of a squad that failed a training exercise. Whatever happened to him back on Kamino, I think the memory of it is affecting his judgement now. I just don't understand him; he gets so angry at people getting killed, and he shouldn't…"

"Why not, Ember?" Adriaan interrupted. "Why shouldn't he get angry?"

"It's not a soldier's way, ma'am; death is a common thing in the military. We have to get used to it early on…"

"No, you don't get used to it. You can't, that's just too much to ask out of a being. You can't seriously say that you're _used _to death, Ember?"

"I'm not, ma'am, but I've gotten to a point now where I don't shed tears over every dead man's body, either. The batch I trained with back in my training days on Kamino was called the Spartan Squad for a reason, General. We never broke down, no matter how brutal the training exercise was. Do you know how I got the name Ember? A hatchmate of mine dared me to keep a campfire going all night outside Tipoca City. You know that it always rains on Kamino? Well, I sat out there for twelve hours, shielding a little bitty fire with an inadequate cloak. But I made it through, General; I kept that ember going all night, through the wind and the rain. The Kaminoans exposed us to such discomfort and pain because they wanted to toughen us up, make us able to endure the suffering of seeing so much death. They said we'd get used to it."

"They're dead wrong. You can't treat killing as if its a mild, humdrum sort of thing, something that you can become accustomed to witnessing. You can't be expected to become like that."

"I shouldn't be expected to fight for a people that cares nothing whether I live or die, either, yet I have to do that every day. We're slave soldiers, General, and slaves are meant to do all the vile jobs that are too filthy for normal sentient beings to do.

"Talk to Wolf, ma'am ––– command him to stop this moping around. He'll listen to you, because you're the General. Order him to grow up."

"I can't order someone to grow up, Ember. You may be slaves to the Republic, but not to me. This is a person we're talking about, not my personal slave. If I'm going to go in there and talk him out of this mood, it will be an eye-to-eye conversation, not a General ordering a trooper around."

Ember didn't like that idea so much. Wolf had always had a soft spot for Adriaan, and allowing him to talk to her as an equal could encourage him in the wrong direction. "Ma'am, I do not approve of that sort of relationship forming between you and Wolf…"

Adriaan appeared taken aback at the suggestion. "Oh, please, Ember, have a little faith in me; I'm a Jedi, not a girl in search of a boyfriend. It wouldn't be fair to treat him like that ––– I may not be the best Jedi in the Order, but at least I conform to the rule of keeping attachments strictly nonromantic. I'll treat him like a sibling; we'll be sister and brother only, understand?"

Ember was still dubious. "Just make sure he understands that that is how far your relationship can go."

"He'll understand."

"But I strongly advise you to _command_ him to stop; orders are what he understands and responds to, not brotherly love and compassion. We're all like that because we grew up listening to orders; no one ever _asked _us if we wanted to do something. We just had to do it. I tried that brother-to-brother talk, but all he did was shrug me off, because 'If it ain't orders, it ain't worth hearing.'"

"He didn't listen because you weren't gentle."

"Gentle? He's a soldier, ma'am, and gentleness makes soldiers uncomfortable. Discomfort is familiar to a trooper, therefore discomfort is more homelike to us than gentleness is. How can being gentle to Wolf help matters?" Ember knew that he wasn't making much sense now, but he was swiftly losing patience with the young woman. Gentle, indeed! What Wolf really needed was a good smack in the rear end.

Adriaan just smiled one of those strange smiles that always made Ember feel that he was made of transparisteel, as if she could see right through him. Being a Jedi with all those Force abilities, she probably could. It gave him the creeps.

"I'll be back in a few minutes," she said.

* * * * *

"Wolf, open the door," Adriaan's muffled voice repeated for the sixth time as she continued to rap gently on the barred entrance.

"I'm trying to get some sleep, ma'am, and I think you should do the same, so go away, please," he said.

There was a brief pause. "I'm afraid I can't do that."

Wolf just waited. Maybe if he didn't respond to her, she would leave.

Unfortunately, locked doors did not stop Jedi from going where they pleased. All it took was a little flashy Jedi trick, and the door was Force-pulled open.

Wolf may not have been in the mood to see Adriaan, but he would never be disrespectful to her, no matter how unwelcome her presence was. Out of habit, he rolled to a sitting position and started to stand for a perfunctory salute as the girl entered the room, but Adriaan shook her head at him and gestured impatiently for him to lay back down.

"Please, Wolf, this isn't a formal audience. You can remain sitting."

"If you don't mind, I'd prefer to stand," he answered evenly.

Adriaan let out an exasperated puff. "Wolf, I'm not in here to order you around and have you licking my boots. Can you cut the formalities for once and stop calling me 'ma'am'? Can we just forget the war for a few minutes?"

Wolf opened his mouth to spout out trooper protocol at Adriaan, but the pleading expression on her face made him reconsider. Forget the war for a few minutes? He looked around the room, shaking his head at the amount of armor, guns, and equipment strewn haphazardly around him. Impossible. Pretend that Adriaan was Adriaan to him, and not ma'am or General ell Talaan? Again, not possible.

"I'd like to, but you can't expect me to forget who I am, and what you are," he said finally. "We're clone and Jedi ––– soldier and officer ––– and it can't be anything else, no matter how hard we pretend."

"Okay, let me rephrase this: is it possible for an officer to be good friends with one of her men?"

The idea intrigued him, for had he not harbored that very same hope deep in his heart? That he could ever have a friend outside the squad? Ember didn't approve of his boys forming attachments with people outside the squad ––– he thought it was bad for morale ––– but that still didn't keep Wolf from wishing for a friend that was…different.

"Okay," he let out in a rush. "Just don't let Ember hear about this, all right? He'll have my hide if he finds out that I ever called you anything other than 'ma'am'"

"No words leave this room," she said solemnly. "Now, about what happened last week…"

"Please ma…Adriaan, there is no reason to torture ourselves by recalling painful events."

She nodded. "I agree; as a Jedi, I was taught to move on, and not over-think past mistakes. This teaching of the Jedi I agree with, but find hard to live by. Things were done to me when I was younger that are hard to forget, let alone forgive."

"I think we share a similar grievance. My time spent on Kamino was anything but happy. But I realized early on in the war that the only way I could move on in my life, pathetic as it is, is by letting go of people and things I fear to lose."

She leaned forward. "And you truly believe this?"

"I do."

"Then why are you acting this way? All you are doing is giving others pain. Is that what you really want?"

Wolf put his head in his hands. "No. I hate seeing my brothers trying vainly to comfort me, but they just don't get it."

"Get what?"

"They've accepted this loss with such ease. I don't know how they all do it. I know I should be like them and let go of my dead brothers, yet I balk at the idea of forgiving murder."

Adriaan was staring at the floor. "You know, lately I've been wondering if there are things so horrible in this universe that they can't be forgiven," she said finally. "Like my neglect of mourning the men who died at Syleeto, or the gruesome trophies Grievous keeps as memos of the people he has slaughtered. Is revenge the only way to find peace from this pain in my heart? I know I'm starting to sound like a sith, but how can forgiveness be _right _in the face of such wrong?"

"I don't know," Wolf said. "I feel so inadequate, not knowing these things. It sounded so easy back on Kamino: obey the Jedi, obey your COs, take care of your kit, and serve, serve, serve the Republic until you die, or until orders state otherwise. It turns out that life is much more complicated than that."

Adriaan seemed to take a sudden interest in the pattern of scuff marks on the floor. "You probably know why I'm here, right?"

"Of course. You want me to forget, to pretend it never happened."

"No. But I don't want you to make your brothers suffer like this. If you are to grieve, hold your misery in your heart. A wise man once said that if you are sad, keep your sorrow secret, so no one will come to pain at seeing you in distress. Someday, your day to avenge your brothers's deaths will come, but how can you expect to be ready on that day if you allow yourself to be wasted away in grief?"

Wolf clenched his fists, forcing himself to remain calm. How typical of a Jedi, to ask the impossible out of him. As if it weren't enough that he had to serve an army that gave him inexperienced officers, food that tasted like cardboard, armor that pinched him in all the wrong spots, no civil rights, no leave, and yet expected him to fight until he died. He began to feel a lump in his throat, and he fought the unexpected urge to cry and reveal to the entire galaxy just what he really was: a scared, sick, unloved little boy in a cold, hard universe.

"Wolf, are you okay?" Adriaan sat down beside him, close enough for him to feel the warmth radiating off her body, yet not close enough as to make him uncomfortable.

He swallowed hard and nodded. "I'm…sorry, Adriaan. You shouldn't have to see me like this."

"I don't mind if you do, you know."

"Do what?"

"Cry."

Cry?! How the heck did she know… "I'm a man, General, not a baby," he said stiffly.

"Cut it out, Wolf; it's Adriaan, remember? Besides, even for men there is a time to cry."

"But I'm not just any man; I'm a soldier. A clone of Jango Fett. I'm better than this. My brothers and I were designed, bred, and trained to be the most effective, physically fit army ever produced…"

"First you say you're a slave, more wretched than the lowest lifeform, and now you say you are better than a normal being. Make up your mind: are you subhuman or superhuman?"

He shrugged. "Both; having superior genetics only makes me a more valuable and therefore more expensive product. Even though I'm a slave, I'm still a man, whatever the rest of the galaxy thinks."

"But you're not a man yet, even as I am not a woman yet. You're eight years old, Wolf, no matter how old you look and act. There's boy in you still, no matter how hard the Kaminoans tried to breed your child nature out of you. Since the first moment I met you, you've never once let down your guard and shown your true personality. Be a boy, for once. You can't be expected at eight years old to be an adult, at least not all the time."

Then she reached over and draped her arm over his shoulder, and that one little touch seemed to break something inside him. He leaned forward and let the tears fall, unleashing all the pent-up anguish and outrage he had felt since the day he had seen Jys die at the gate. Adriaan's arm tightened around him, and she drew him close, allowing him to turn his head and weep on her shoulder. She sat very still, crooning the lamentations of the strange songshe had sung at the funeral, waiting patiently for the deluge to cease.

"_The fires of death consume us all_

_The weight of glory is hard to bear._

_Our hearts beat as one as we march_

_To spill our blood for cowards._

_No one cares who we are_

_No one cares who we'll be_

_No one cares for the brothers we have lost_

_For the sake of someone else's dream._

_The fires of death consume us all_

_As we sweat blood for traitors_

_We are the slave army of a doomed Republic_

_But our sacrifice sets our hearts free!_

The words to the song ––– so resigned to a horrible fate, yet so proud and so full of hope ––– strangely affected Wolf. Instead of feeling anger at the injustice in his life, he felt unexpectedly uplifted, for it made him realize that in his sorrow, he was not alone. His brothers and the Jedi officers all experienced and felt the devastating pain that the war had brought. Though they fought for a doomed Republic, the clones' self-sacrifices set them free, made heroes and men out of them. It gave them the strength to go on, to let go of what they had lost ––– not in the sense of forgetting the dead, but in honoring their memory, and learning to live in a constantly adapting universe.

As Wolf came to this revelation, he began to feel the warmth of Adriaan's body against his, to hear the calming, rhythmic beating of her heart, to breath in the delicate, sandalwood fragrance of her skin. As these things registered in his brain, he came to the realization of something else, something he hadn't noticed before, but something that had been there for a long time, something very wonderful and beautiful and potent and impossible at the same time…

He loved Adriaan.


	27. Soldiers & Jedi, Brothers & Sisters All

**_Kandosii! _You have reached the final chapter of _Behind the Mask! _Tomorrow, I'll be posting the first chapter of book 5, _Invader. Oya! _**

**The previous chapter had some rather interesting developments, didn't it? This is my first attempt at a romance subplot, and I rather hesitated to write it in, because personally, I find it really hard to pull off a love story without it sounding, well, cheesy. So I would be eternally grateful to anyone who will provide some feedback on the WolfxAdriaan development. It's not much right now, and maybe it will never work out, knowing Adriaan. What do you guys think?**

**The last part to this chapter (the gravball game) is personally one of my favorite sections, because I and my brother - as I think I mentioned previously - are pretty big basketball fans. Hope you guys like it, too. Also, this is the chapter where you finally get to see why my username is ELF Commando.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own _Star Wars, _nor did I develop Mando'a. However, certain planets, creatures, and characters in this series were created by myself.**

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Chapter 27

Adriaan had arranged it so that the Varactyl Clan and Shadow Squad could have a stopover for a few days of rest and relaxation, under the pretense of investigating "An internal Jedi affair" It was the first leave Adriaan and the Clan had taken since the start of the war, and it was the first vacation time Shadow Squad had ever had. All twenty-five of the group desperately needed the vacation; the mission to Umbria had left them all both physically and mentally fatigued.

It just so happened that the first suitable location to stop at was the planet Nubia. It was a Republic world with a corrupt government, yet a modern and urbane society that was very similar to the Coruscant community. It was the perfect place for a military group to go on liberty without official leave.

Neither the Jedi nor the clone troopers had funds to cover the trip ––– the GAR didn't pay them ––– but Darc had generously "offered" to pay for rooms, food, entertainment, and anything else they might need during their stay. Wolf wondered if Adriaan had threatened Darc at lightsaber point or had used her feminine charms to persuade him to pay for the trip. Giving her personality, Wolf guessed she chose the former technique to convince Darc.

Since they were on Nubia under the pretense of a Jedi investigation with military support, they had authorization to use a military craft as their means of transport. Varactyl Clan and Shadow Squad landed at the Nuba City spaceport at 0500, two standard days since their escape from Umbria. Adriaan had been given seven days off from her respective duties as General, so they had about five days to hang out before they were deployed for their next assignment, which would probably involve countering the future invasion of Kuat Shipyards.

Darc apparently had a lot of credits lying around, for he was able to book them rooms in the Nubian Palace ––– a luxurious, much sought-after resort that boasted four holovid theatres, twelve casinos, a virtual reality suite, and gorgeous solar gardens.

The Padawans had obviously never been in such opulent surroundings before, for when they were shown to their suite, all they could do was stand and stare with their mouths hanging open. Only the Wicked Club members seemed at ease in the expensive hotel room, for they had wasted no time in jumping into the deep, soft mattresses and engaging in a pillow fight that sent costly, ivory-white feathers flying throughout the room.

It took some time, but eventually everyone except Andora began to feel at home in the palatial suite. Aedan's twin had very strict standards on the "correct" way for a Jedi to live, and even staying temporarily in upscale lodgings seemed immoral to her. She took the Jedi rule of living a simple life very seriously.

"Jedi do not approbate abiding in such ostentatious conditions," she sneered.

"Oh, lighten up, will you?" Kay mumbled, burying her head in a thick, pure white comforter. "Haven't you ever heard of vacation?"

"Vacation does not mean relinquishing your vocation," Andora said.

"Okay, you've got to be kidding me. I can hardly think that sleeping in a comfortable bed for a week will cause me to abandon my vocation to become a Jedi," Klamin said.

"Suit yourself, but I, for one, feel inclined to slumber on the floor."

Adriaan came in last, lugging in an incredible amount of kit. Even on leave, she had seen fit to carry armor and weapons. As Wolf stepped toward her quickly to help her with the baggage, she turned to Darc and shook her head in amazement. "You didn't need to do this, you know," she said. "We would've been fine in some cheap motel in a seedy part of town."

Darc shook his head. "Adriaan, Adriaan, Adriaan, what's the point of going on vacation if you're just going to spend it in the infested city slums? Let the Padawans have their fun ––– it'll probably be the only time they'll get to stay in a place like this. As for the credits…we've already discussed that."

"What about the credits?" Kay Lee asked, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. "Adriaan, what kind of deal did you make with this Hutt spawn?"

Adriaan smiled, and it wasn't a very nice-looking smile at all. "Oh, I didn't promise anything…"

"…Except she gave me permission to take you out!" Darc blurted.

"She did _what?!?!" _Kay Lee nearly had a heart attack then and there, but unfortunately for Darc she wasn't the fainting type. Adriaan had about three seconds to stop Kay before she beat Chun-be into a quivering pulp.

"Kay, relax, _udesii," _she said, pulling the enraged Padawan away from her prey. "He's just teasing you. You know I wouldn't do something that horrible to you, right?"

"You certainly have no scruples about doing horrible things to _me,_" Darc said. "Why, you threatened to rip my face off if I refused to pay for this vacation. There's no reward in this for me. Why can't I take Kay out on a date?"

"If you so desperately need a girlfriend, go find some blind and deaf girl that isn't obligated to follow the Jedi code. Even if I _liked _you, I wouldn't be allowed to date you because I took a vow," Kay said.

Darc frowned. "But why must my girlfriend be blind and deaf?"

"Because the only way a girl will ever date you is if she can't see your ugly face, or hear your stuck-up voice," Adriaan and Kay chorused.

"Omigosh! They have a gravball court!" Lance shouted suddenly, flipping through the suite welcome pamphlet.

Cor had also been studying the leaflet which listed the accommodations the palace offered. "Not to mention an all-you-can-eat buffet!" he added, licking his lips at the prospect of food. Since all the clones grew up twice as fast as regular human beings, they had super-high metabolisms and insatiable appetites. It also didn't help that they led extremely active lifestyles. As a result, they could eat enough food for about four grown men without gaining an ounce of weight as a result. "They're serving roba sausage in hot sauce this evening."

"Speaking of hot sauce, I haven't had breakfast yet," Fyre ––– who, like Vikk, had a passion for spicy food ––– said.

"Neither have I," Klamin said, shapeshifting into a Rek ––– a species characterized by its svelte, willowy body ––– and putting on an exaggerated starving expression.

"Oh, stop whining, you Clawdite wuss," Marya retorted. "You were the one who ate _all _our supplies while we were stranded on Umbria…"

"I did _not!_" Klamin protested indignantly. "Besides, how many times do I have to tell you that I am _not a Clawdite?! _I am a giant _Shi'Odo!"_

"Whoever's hungry can come with me down to the buffet, Master," Kan offered eagerly, abandoning his sulky mood.

"HUNGRY!" the Wicked Club shrieked, clutching their stomachs in agony. "WICKEDS HUNGRY!"

"If I might append, indulgent guide, I am also acutely in demand of comestibles," Andora said, adding her voice to the general clamor.

"How much does it cost to eat at the buffet?" Darc asked nervously.

"Expensive," Adriaan muttered, glancing at the brochure. "Nothing comes cheap at the Nuba Palace. Plus, with the clones and all these growing boys eating at the buffet…" her voice trailed off ominously.

Darc glanced at the price again, did a little mental math, frowned, and began to scribble on the blank margins of the pamphlet. His eyes widened incredulously.

"Something wrong?" Adriaan asked lightly.

Darc gulped. "Um, Ree, I think we need to talk this over for a bit…"

Adriaan let out a breath of exasperation. "Oh, come on, Darc, you offered to pay for this trip, and let's face it, the kids have to eat _something_."

"Maybe we _should_ stay in a cheaper part of town…"

"Adriaan," Klamin spoke up. "I still have some credits left over from the time I served as an advisor to Queen Hyrax of the Syleeto System. You're welcome to spend them, since I'm a Jedi now."

"Jedi _Padawan,_" Kan felt the need to correct.

Adriaan shot a look at Kan that warned him to be quiet. "Why, yes, that is very kind of you, Klamin," she said. "Thank you."

"Lemme get my wallet." Klamin suddenly gagged and regurgitated a thick, black leather pouch and offered the slimy object to his Master, who recoiled but accepted the gift to be polite.

Kay Lee stared, revolted. "Ah, any particular reason why you kept your wallet in your guts?"

Klamin grinned. "Well, the biological makeup of my species makes it possible for me to keep various items inside my body. It's really rather interesting what sort of things I can contain within my stomach…"

Kay held up her hand. "Never mind; I don't want to know."

Meanwhile, Adriaan gingerly opened the sack with her index finger and thumb, and multicolored credit chips spilled out of her hands and clinked to the floor. She looked up from the contents of the pouch in surprise. "But, this must contain about forty million Republic dataries…"

Klamin shrugged. "Being the first advisor to the Queen was a high-paying job. I was a member of the nobility class on Zylxx, so I was rich. So what?"

"You gave up being a rich noble just to be a Jedi…" That Klamin had relinquished a promising career and a luxurious life to become a Jedi had obviously never occurred to Adriaan. She had never had credits to line her own pockets, so she had probably never fully understood the great sacrifice Klamin had made in his decision to become her Apprentice.

"Of course! Being a high-ranking official had its perks, but I had always aspired for a life of adventure. The rich life wasn't for me."

"But forty million credits…think of what you could buy with that much money!"

"What would I spend the credits on, Master? A lifetime supply of protein pellets? I honestly don't know what I would buy with all these Dataries. I'd probably end up using them all up on glitteryll drugs or something damaging to my being anyway, so just take them."

"If you say so." Adriaan slid the pouch into her utility belt. "Well, how about some food, kids?"

* * *

It was still early in the morning, so almost no other customers were at the diner when they arrived. The bright green Twi'lek hostess that greeted them at the door seemed unhappy at the prospect of serving twenty-five people, and gave Adriaan several dirty looks as she tottered off on too-high heels, grumbling as she led them to a secluded section in the back of the restaurant, where several tables and booths were stationed. The girl made no move to put together a large family table as Adriaan had politely requested, however, and left them to find seats for themselves.

"Your waitress will be here shortly," the Twi'lek snarled, stumping off to hide behind the desk at the front.

"Thank you, sweetie," Darc called after the hostess, gazing at her admiringly. Wolf saw Kay Lee look at Adriaan and roll her eyes.

The Jedi and the clones seated themselves at random tables and began to peruse the menus, waiting patiently for someone to come and take their order. Contrary to the green Twi'lek's statement, the waitress did not arrive shortly; it wasn't until about fifteen minutes had passed before a rather attractive Theelin female with bright purple, spiky hair bustled in, eyeing the group with interest.

"Over here, sweetcake!" Darc shouted, waving the girl over, but she ignored him and, to everyone's surprise, approached Cor instead.

"May I take your order, sir?" she said, gazing at him admiringly.

Cor, who wasn't used to attractive women taking notice of him, flushed at the Theelin's unexpected attention. "Um, I'll have bantha milk flatcakes, nerf sausages, scrambled eggs, and extra-sweetened caf," he said in a rush. The waitress made a big show of writing his order down, all the while stealing glances at the clone under her long, heavily-mascaraed eyelashes.

"Anything else?" she asked sweetly.

"Yeah, but not until I finish the first course," he said evenly. The Theelin nodded and turned reluctantly to Ember, who was sitting across from Cor and had been frowning in disapproval at the waitress.

"Mealbread, sausages, a bowl of jewel-fruit, and caf prepared the same way as his," Ember muttered, glaring at the unfortunate Theelin. The waitress went around the tables and took everyone else's order, apparently without seeming to notice the startling resemblance Cor had to the rest of his brothers. Wolf was relieved; it could get a little awkward trying to explain that twelve people looked exactly alike because they were clones, and GAR soldiers that were AWOL.

Wolf had ended up sitting at a table with Adriaan. It was pure coincidence…okay, it wasn't. Wolf was still trying to figure himself out after he had made the startling revelation that he loved his Jedi General. Of course, he wasn't even thinking about telling her that, yet; neither Ember, the GAR, or the Jedi would exactly smile upon a romantic relationship forming between soldier and Jedi officer. It just wasn't done. Besides, it was entirely possible that there was no way his love for Adriaan would ever be reciprocated. Did that stop him from loving her? Strangely enough, no.

"What would you two like to eat?" the Theelin ––– who was identified on her name-tag as Diva ––– tapped her stylus to the pad and waited for Wolf and Adriaan to place their order.

Adriaan looked up from the menu and seemed to notice Diva for the first time. She stared at the Theelin, her eyes taking in the low-cut, figure-hugging, shimmery sept-silk top and the sequined miniskirt with black leather boots to complete the outfit. The top was purple and matched Diva's violet hair, facial tattoos, and eye makeup. Overall, the waitress was dressed in typical skimpy attire that Wolf supposed was considered to be fashionable among young Galactic citizens.

It was clear that Adriaan did not find the Theelin's outfit to be attractive at all. The Jedi Knight, obviously disgusted, opened her mouth to say something that was most likely uncivil, but then seemed to change her mind. "Just some seedbread, a bowl of muja fruit, scrambled eggs, and a glass of jewel-fruit juice," she said. "Wolf?"

"Flatcakes with nerf strips and eggs," Wolf said, not daring to meet Adriaan's gaze. "A heavily sweetened cup of caf."

"I'll be back shortly. Just give me a ring if you need anything else," Diva said, staring meaningfully at Cor before flouncing out of the room.

"What a chick," Darc whistled. "I wonder if she'll give me her number if I ask for it?"

"Don't count on it," Kay said. "Did you see how she was ogling Cor?"

"Must've been my dashing good looks," Cor said, slicking back his hair. He seemed pleased that the Theelin had chosen to flirt with him, out of all the males in the room. Even the "chick-magnet" Darc had been passed over with barely a glance.

"Don't let it go to your head," Ember growled. "That girl was probably shortsighted."

Diva returned soon, this time with a burly Besalisk in tow, bearing in each of his four arms a platter weighed down with glasses of juice and mugs of caf. The Theelin made a point of handing Cor his cup of caf first before going around and passing the drinks to everyone else.

Klamin, excited to see a multi-limbed alien, stood up in his seat and accosted the male waiter. "Hey! I can take on your shape, too!" Klamin shouted, and immediately transformed into a Besalisk nearly identical to the waiter. Besalisk-Klamin waved all four of his arms in the air wildly. "What'dya think of that, huh?"

Diva shrieked in surprise and dropped the cup of muja juice, which at the moment had been unfortunately poised over Andora's head. The chilled contents of the cup, mixed with fragments of broken glass, splattered all over poor Andora and caused her to add her own indignant yells to the clamor that had arisen from the diner employees, who had apparently never seen a shapeshifter before. The untactful Shi'Odo watched with some confusion as both Diva and the Besalisk noisily withdrew into the safety of the kitchen. Klamin sheepishly morphed back into his original shape and stared gloomily at his table, empty because Diva had fled before giving him his drink.

"That jejune coquette will be expiate at once for such execrable comportment!" Andora sputtered. "I shall advance to apprise the Nuba City constabulary forthwith…"

"Andora, calm down," Adriaan said, trying very hard to hide the smile rising to her lips. "It was just an accident. They'll come back and clean you up."

An employee eventually did come back to clean the mess up, but it was not the beautiful Theelin that waited on them now ––– Klamin had probably given her a panic attack ––– instead, they had the privilege of being attended to by the gracious Twi'lek hostess that had been dragged from her station to surlily act as a surrogate waitress until poor Diva recovered. After the Twi'lek ––– with the reluctant aid of the frightened Besalisk chef ––– brought the food, the group was left alone to eat and enjoy one another's company. That suited everyone just fine; Darc forgot about Diva and the green Twi'lek and turned his unwanted attention back to Kay Lee, who successfully ignored him by initiating a conversation with Marya, who proved to be quite talkative when it came to a discussion about mean instructors, annoying younglings and tonfa saber techniques. Klamin, who was becoming a skilled tonfa artist, leaned over and joined the two girl Padawans in their conversation, constantly shapeshifting and shoveling food down his throat. Wolf still couldn't figure out how Klamin could articulate sentences so clearly with food stuffed in his mouth, but he guessed that that was just one of the advantages of being a gigantic teenage changeling.

Kan wasn't talking much; he seemed to be listening to Kay's, Marya's, and Klamin's discussion, but he was mostly occupied with the plate of flatcakes in front of him. The Wicked Club, as usual, were eating, talking, and providing entertainment that no one really cared to see. Then Andora asked Kan about lightsaber shotos, and Kan stopped eating to speak to Andora. Cor and Fyre were debating with Ember on whether to buy clone commando armor for the squad or not; Ember was saying that it was too expensive and that they weren't commandos, while Fyre and Cor were arguing that they were different from the white jobs ––– regular clones ––– and needed the more blaster-resistant armor because their missions tended to be on the tough side. The other clones quit their discussion of laser-dissipating aerosols and flamethrowers to join the debate.

"Have you seen the Katarn-class armor? It makes our shock trooper kit look like junk," Cor said. "Come on, Ember, I bet if we contacted the right people we could procure some commando kit…"

"We're not commandos," Ember said for the umpteenth time. "Our designation prefixes are all CT ––– clone trooper. If you were a Republic Commando, Cor, your designation would be RC-7575, not CT-7575."

"Well, can we at least get pauldrons and kamas? I've always wanted to wear those things…"

"Those are for Advanced Recon Commandos, not gropos like us," Ember pointed out.

"But we're not regular troopers. We only had seven years of training on Kamino; the rest of our education has been taken over by a Jedi Knight. Surely that means something."

"What do you want me to do? Add an extra 'C' to our designation prefixes so that we're all CTCs ––– Clone Trooper Commandos?" Ember asked sarcastically. "Come on, Cor, be realistic."

Wolf sneaked a look at his table companion, and saw that Adriaan seemed to be interested in the conversation, too.

"Actually, I've been thinking about that, and I think giving a name to your class would be a great idea," Adriaan said. "Shadow Squad is an okay name for your unit, but it's not very…creative. I bet there's about ten squads in the GAR called that. Besides, I think Cor's right; being trained by a Jedi Knight gives you all an edge that I think should be acknowledged."

"Hey boys, listen up! The General is going to rename our unit!" Cor shouted, even though by now everyone in the room was paying attention to the discussion going on between Ember and Adriaan.

"Any ideas?" Adriaan asked.

"JTCT ––– Jedi-Trained Clone Troopers?" Kay suggested.

"ECs ––– Elite Commandos?" Marya supplied.

"CTC?" Cor asked with a smirk. Ember sighed and rolled his eyes as the other boys guffawed.

"How about STORM?" Klamin asked suddenly.

"What would that stand for?" Adriaan replied.

"Uh…STupid Obesities Running Madly," Klamin improvised.

Adriaan gave him a dirty look.

"How about ELF Commandos?" Kan asked a little timidly. "ELF standing for Enforcing Front Line. I know its a really stupid-sounding acronym, but if it helps you hatch any good ideas…"

"I think that sounds great!" Adriaan said enthusiastically. "We always do end up with missions on the battlefront, anyway, as opposing to RCs and ARCs, who are usually shipped off on reconnaissance objectives and terrorist ops and such. Besides, the name is kind of cute…what do you think, guys?"

"Too cute," Cor muttered. "The other boys in the five oh third would never stop making fun of us if we were called the ELF Commandos."

"Well, you always did want to be the center of attention," Ember said. "Personally, I think the name would work well for us."

"So do I," ten identical voices assented.

"So it's settled then; you are now ELF Commandos. When we get back to the hotel I'll file the name change and send in a request to HQ for thirteen full Republic Commando kits…and I'll see if I can throw some pauldrons and kamas into the deal, too." Adriaan picked up her spoon and began to eat her fruit and seedbread. The others followed her example and began to chow down, too.

The tantalizing aroma of smoked nerf strips and sweet, buttery flatcakes rose to Wolf's nostrils, and he realized that he hadn't eaten well for about nine days. Wolf picked up his fork and knife and wolfed down the pile of food on his plate, eating quickly yet savoring every bite of the costly and expertly prepared food.

Adriaan took a sip from her glass and leaned forward. "What's a pauldron and kama?" she asked him in a whisper.

Wolf had to smile. He had been responsible for instructing her in military terminology and technicalities, for from the very beginning, she had never hesitated in asking him about something that confused her, or what she didn't know or understand. It felt good, knowing that Adriaan felt she could take him into her confidence.

"A pauldron is colored shoulder padding, generally worn on the left shoulder and used to signify unit and/or rank. A kama is made of stiff leather and protects the legs against low-flying shrapnel, debris, and jetpack downwash. It's often derided as a skirt. Usually these additional pieces of kit are reserved for ARC troopers, but I've heard of some regular troopers that wear them."

"Oh, okay. Thanks, Wolf."

"No problem, ma'am."

Silence. Wolf took another large bite of flatcake and chewed it thoughtfully, stealing another look at Adriaan.

"Uh, did Ember tell you about Jordin?" he asked finally.

Adriaan put her fork down and flashed a look at him. "He did."

"Oh." There didn't seem much to say after that. Wolf felt so sorry for Adriaan; it must be truly horrible to know that one of your Apprentices could very likely be paralyzed for life.

"It's all my fault that this happened to her. I should've stayed with her and Kan, and not let them go off alone. I should've sensed that Jan was there…"

"Jan? You mean the man in the gold and black armor? You knew him?"

"He was a fellow Jedi trainee. I knew him quite well several years ago, before he apparently died in a speeder accident. I guess Haak must've set the accident up as a cover for Jan's kidnapping…"

"Haak? Wasn't that the guy you fought? The guy that disappeared into thin air after I shot him…"

"The same."

Pause. "Who is he?" Wolf asked.

"You don't want to know," Adriaan whispered.

"Ma'am…"

"Please Wolf, just trust me on this. Besides, it's not ma'am anymore; you promised to call me Adriaan."

"Yes, but only for that one conversation we had on the _Victory. _I can't call you Adriaan all the time; that'll make Ember mad."

_Oh, Ember's going to be really mad if he figures out that I love her…_

"Fine." Adriaan turned her attention back to the food on her plate.

Wolf finished his breakfast and hungrily eyed Heatrian's untouched, steaming pile of flatcakes. The Pyronite ––– whose diet consisted of various metals and rocks ––– had ordered the food simply to be polite. Sitting at the table in a shiny green tunic, his body faintly glowing a deep, rusty brown, Heatrian hardly looked like an animate blob of molten lava at all. The Pyronite was keeping his fellow Wicked Club members entranced with wild tales of Pyronite folklore, but his spooky Jedi sixth sense seemed to feel Wolf's eyes on him, for he turned and waved invitingly at his plate of cakes. Wolf didn't hesitate; he reached over, grabbed the plate, and plunked it down in front of him, ploughing into the sticky-sweet stack, ignoring Aedan's indignant screams that those flatcakes weren't for GOODS to eat.

Adriaan still seemed to hardly touch her food. Wondering if she didn't like what she ordered, Wolf gestured toward the plate of flatcakes, but she shook her head.

"Sorry, I'm just stuffed," she said. "That seedcake I ordered is the size of my head."

"Ooh, can I have your breakfast, then?" Onor asked, eyeing the huge chunk of seedbread still lying on the plate.

"Chow down." She passed him the bread, which he devoured in about thirty seconds. "I really ordered more than I can eat."

"No more adult meals for you, then, General!" Cor laughed, ringing for the waitress, who came in and took another dozen orders of flatcakes. The Varactyl Clan and the ELF commandos had just had their appetites whetted by the first course. Near-starvation and physical exhaustion had given them all stomaches that were like bottomless pits.

"Are you okay?" Wolf asked the General. She was looking gray-faced, but then, perhaps they all looked a little haggard.

"Not really," Adriaan said, smiling wryly. "But I'm coping."

"You fought with the Jedi Council again, didn't you?"

"No, of course not," Adriaan said, going red in the face. "I mean, yes, they certainly know how to rub me the wrong way. It all started a year ago, when they wouldn't let me take Klamin as my Apprentice."

Wolf nodded. He remembered that, all right. It had been quite a blowout, according to Heatrian's account of the debate between Adriaan and the Council. After she had unceremoniously stormed out of the council rooms, she hadn't been in contact with the Temple for almost a year. She always left the Council reports to be filed out by Wolf, Kay, Kan, or Ember. Wolf knew that the Jedi had also been responsible for forcing her to cooperate with Darc Chun-be, who had been on bad terms with Adriaan ever since he had ditched the Jedi Order to become a civilian. It wasn't particularly surprising that she had fought with some Jedi Masters again.

"Was this another attempt to make you de-Apprentice Klamin again?" he asked.

"No, that discussion ended a year ago. Klamin has definitely proved to that he is a capable and fundamentally stable student, contrary to the Council's initial suspicions. Basically, they commanded me to temporarily abandon my duties as General of Ade Verda Brigade and spend a few weeks with my Padawans on a meditative retreat. When I refused on the grounds that our objective to capture Grievous was not yet completed, they confirmed that they knew the current whereabouts of the General. When I requested the latest Intel on General Grievous, they refused to tell me where he was, saying that they had passed the mission on to another Jedi team. I also petitioned for a few days of leave for the squad, but they said they couldn't do that, and then they gave me a dressing down for being too sentimental. I told them I'd rather be a good General than a good Jedi, and then I cut the communication. That's about it."

"Oh." Well, that explained why Adriaan was wearing military suits now, and had thrown her Jedi robe on the funeral pyre back on the _Victory. _Suddenly remembering the incredible phenomenon that had occurred during the memorial service, he looked up at his companion to speak to her again. "You never told us that you know how to sing."

Adriaan shrugged. "Everyone knows how to sing; it's just that not everyone is good at it."

"Well, I think you have a beautiful voice; if you weren't a Jedi, you'd definitely make a career as a singer. Have you ever thought about doing something like that?"

Her face reddened at his praise. "Thank you. I actually once had a gig as a lead singer for some upstart jizz/leap-hop band, back when I was a young and crazy Padawan. It was for an undercover mission; I couldn't be recognized as a Jedi. I liked it, but I didn't stay with them long. Being a Jedi came first. Anyway, I hear the band has gained popularity recently."

"Are they called the WICKED Rancor Rollers?" Aedan piped up. Privacy was impossible in a place like the diner they were in. Everyone was listening to multiple conversations at once.

"The Rancor Rollers," Adriaan confirmed, making a show of omitting the "wicked"

"WICKED! The _WICKED _Rancor Rollers are WICKED!" The Wicked Club screamed.

"On second thought, if the Wicked Club thinks they're awesome, maybe they aren't worth listening to, after all," Adriaan said thoughtfully.

"Where did you learn that song you sang after _Vode An_?" Wolf asked. "It sounded like a Mandalorian chant, but Jango never taught us that one."

Adriaan flushed again. "It wasn't a traditional Mandalorian chant. It was nothing, really; just an improvisation. I was letting off steam."

"You _improvised _that?" That was impressive in of itself. "That's amazing." He paused uncomfortably. "Can I ask you a question?"

"As long as you don't mind my not answering it."

"Fair enough." He took a deep breath. "Who was Urak?"

Her brow darkened as she gazed up at the ceiling panels, sucking her teeth as she contemplated. "He was the clone Commander assigned to me during the recapture of the Syleeto System ––– my first mission as a Jedi Commander. He was an intelligent man and he knew how to do his job, but we didn't get along so well."

"Why didn't you like him?"

"Well…I was really new to the job as a Commander; I hadn't ever led an organized military force into a battle before. Urak knew he was more qualified to be the leading officer than I was, but he didn't force me to step down and let him take control. I was the one who was stupid. I assumed that because of my Jedi training, I could command the troops better than he could. And, to tell you the truth, back then I thought of clones as just a bunch of organic droids. I couldn't see Urak as an individual; I just saw him as a creature with a face identical to a couple million other faces. So I didn't give him credit for who he was. And he deserved a lot of credit, for he was a hero. He saved Kay Lee's life at the cost of his own. And you know what? Whenever I remember what he did during the battle at Syleeto, I always wonder: would I have been brave and selfless enough to do the same?"

It must've taken a lot of guts for her to admit that she used to think of Wolf and his kind as nothing more than cannon fodder, and instead of being disappointed that Adriaan had once thought of clones as expendable creatures, Wolf found a new admiration for her, for he now saw her as she truly was ––– not as a godlike pacifist, or omnipotent military officer, but as a human being, capable of making mistakes.

"What made you change your opinion about clones?" Wolf wondered.

Adriaan smiled one of her rare smiles, which shed away the grayness and exhaustion from her face, and seemed to reveal a hidden youthfulness and beauty that brightened her eyes and brought a glow to her face. The toil and pain of war hadn't made her old yet; her body was still young and strong, nourished by the hope that peace would be restored soon to the Republic.

"It was you boys," she said. "After meeting you, it made me realize that it didn't matter whether you were created to kill, or that you were going to die of old age in about fifty years, or that you shared the same face as millions of other men. Each of you has a soul, a personality that makes you stand out as an individual. You're flesh and blood, just like me. I owe you boys one for helping me to see the soul inside each one of you. I don't care that you were created primarily for war; I'm glad that you exist."

She reached her hand across the table and took his hand in her own. Wolf felt an unexpected thrill as his fingers wrapped around the smooth, slender hands, which were usually hidden by black leather combat gloves that covered her up to her elbows. Her fingers were really long, but her hand was much smaller than his, and he looked down and marveled at the sharp contrast of his rich, dark skin against the delicate ivory pigmentation. And in that moment, he found an impossible urge to shout it aloud, to declare his feelings for her…

"Adriaan…"

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but I'm stuffed!" Cor shouted.

_Fierfek, _Wolf thought, annoyed at Cor for so inelegantly ruining the moment. Cor was waving his empty plate triumphantly in the air, as if he were a knight that had conquered a ferocious dragon…his stomach, to be precise. "Who wants to play some gravball when we get back to the hotel?"

"WICKED!" Aedan shrieked. "Me and my WICKEDS are going to be the WICKED Duracrete Heels!"

"NO!" Andre protested. "Let's be the WICKED Nubian Slammers!"

"Yeah!" Nic agreed enthusiastically.

"NO!" Jahn Pal, Heatrian, Sai'wer, and Aedan yelled.

"YEAH!"

"Guys, you can just play on opposite teams if you can't decide on a team name," Kay pointed out.

The Wicked Club turned to glare murderously at her.

Kay raised an eyebrow. "Did I say something wrong?"

* * * * *

"She seems a little high-spirited for someone who's just lost three Padawans and seven troopers," Klamin observed later in the day, during their second gravball game. Kan and Klamin had played an active part during the first game, which the other team ––– composed of Adriaan and the clones ––– had won, though by a slim margin. Now the two Apprentices were taking a much-needed break, letting a hyperactive Aedan and a composed Andora fill in their positions. Despite Kan's initial misgivings of Aedan's talents as a gravball player, Kenobi succeeded on putting twenty of his team's points on the board, bringing up the score fifty-two to forty-eight, with Adriaan's team being down.

The only drawback about Aedan was that he drew too many fouls. Kan watched as Fyre, rushing in to make a point, was thrown to the ground by a rough Force-push from Aedan.

"Foul six! You're out!" Nano ––– the ref for that game ––– shouted.

"What? How do you call that a foul?!" Aedan shrieked.

"Unnecessary roughness. Force-pushes are illegal, remember?"

"Well, it was _his _GOODfault for provoking WICKED me, so you should WICKEDLY put the foul on the GOOD instead!"

"Aedan, just shut up and sit out," Adriaan said.

"This GOOD old game is _so_ rigged!" Aedan screamed, stamping his foot. "The refs are calling all the fouls on us!"

"Aedan, just go; it's only a game," Kay said.

"Make me," Aedan said, planting his feet firmly on the court and folding his arms across his chest.

After a moment of discussion, the teams decided to let Aedan stay in. After all, they were just playing for fun; it wasn't like they were trying to win the championship or something. But first, Aedan had to promise to behave for the rest of the game. He ––– after being reassured that playing nicely was "wicked" ––– agreed.

The clones were much better players than Kan had expected. He and Klamin watched as Kay, in possession of the zoneball, sprinted down the court to make a score, only to have the ball taken out from under her nose by Ember, who made a behind-the-back pass to Wolf. The lanky, muscular clone trooper caught the pass, jumped over Jahn Pal and Sai'wer, and slammed the ball into the hoop.

"Go!" Wolf's brothers whooped. "Awesome!"

"_Inkabunga! Kandosii! Cli-cli-yxxi-ya!" _Adriaan hollered, yelling 'Incredible' in several different languages.

"What a polyglot," Klamin commented. "She knows about as many languages as the creatures I can shapeshift into."

"She's become obsessed with Mando'a," Kan said. "I mean, seriously, if she just had the Mando armor, she'd be a perfect Mandalorian."

"Cool."

"No, it's not cool at all," Kan said, frowning. "It's worrying. You can't be a Mandalorian Jedi ––– you have to be one or the other, not both."

"Pardon my ignorance, but may I ask why you can't be both Mandalorian and Jedi, besides the fact that the Mandalorians are Separatist allies?"

"This isn't the first time the Mandalorians have taken the side fighting against the Jedi Order. The Mandos are notorious for siding with the sith when it comes to galactic-wide wars." Kan paused, swallowing hard. "Do you think that maybe she's thinking about joining the Seps?"

"I hope not. I guess we won't know for sure until we get her profile from Jordin," Klamin said grimly.

"_If _Jordin ever gets well enough to do the research in the Jedi Archives for us," Kan corrected bitterly.

"So you've heard about that, haven't you?" Kan nodded, and the Shi'Odo seemed to flounder around for a suitable comment. "I'm…so sorry about Jordin. It doesn't seem believable that such a sweet, talkative little girl could end up comatose indefinitely…"

"It can't be true," Kan said. His fists clenched. "Jordin is my best friend, the only one I have left. I don't care what the medics say about her condition; she's _got _to be all right! People have made amazing recoveries from head trauma before."

"She'll get well," Klamin said, trying very hard to be reassuring. "The Jedi healers at the Temple are supposed the finest medics in the galaxy. Adriaan said that if it had not been for their skill as healers, she would be dead now herself. Surely if they can prevent someone from dying, they can save Jordin from a living death."

The alien's gaze dwelt on the court, his constantly shapeshifting skin betraying his restlessness. "The thing to do now is to discover an alternative source of information on Ra'hal Espera and Haak. If either of those two Dark Jedi are still at large, we have little time to wait for their background stories provided by the Jedi Archives. We need to figure out exactly who and what they _were _so that we can hypothesize who, what, and where they are _now. _Sith can wait patiently for their plans to reach maturity, but once the time comes for them to strike, they do it quickly, so that there is no chance for requital. So the best way to thwart the schemes of the sith is by preventing them from ever happening. The question is, where can we get reliable and conclusive information quickly?"

Kan's eyes went out to the gravball court, watching the players interact. He observed how Darc kept close to Adriaan, under the pretense of guarding her ––– but even a fool could see that he was standing closer to her than was necessary. Adriaan did her best to get away from him, but his former Jedi training allowed him to keep pace with her, and she was becoming increasingly annoyed with him.

_ "You've never told us about your old Master," Klamin said._

_ "She's dead," Adriaan said flatly. Something in her voice warned the Padawans to stay away, but something about what she said made Darc look at her strangely._

_ "_She_?" he asked, looking at Adriaan with an odd expression on his face. _

_ The thought flashed through Kan's mind, _He knows something that I do not.

_ Adriaan raised her eyebrows incredulously. "Don't you remember?" she asked, her smile seeming forced. Kan could tell by the expression on her face that she was about to lie. "My Master was Netari Ptosoy. She was quite a legendary figure when she was alive. Very aggressive in combat…but not brutal. She was very gentle when her lightsaber was clipped to her utility belt._

"_Chun-be and I were allies," she said to Kan, back before the war had begun. "We fought, we disagreed on almost everything, but…we stood up for each other. I had wanted to be his friend, but he was too prideful. He treated me like a little kid that needed his protection. That drove me crazy. I was in the medical center in critical condition when he decided to leave the Order. I never saw him again. It nearly killed me. All that time, and I had always thought…_

_ "And now that you know the facts about the 'spat' I'd prefer that the name of Darc Chun-be never to be mentioned in my presence. He, well…he was a coward and a weakling to leave…so he is no longer my friend," Adriaan said angrily._

_ "So you see why I do not like to speak of him. I prefer to think he does not exist."_

Adriaan suddenly broke through Darc's defense with a pump fake, and moved in closer to make the shot. The ball went in, bringing up the score to a tie, and all the teammates closest to Adriaan enthusiastically clapped her on the back, shouting, "_Oya! _Go you! That was one wicked move!" Darc, playing the part of a good sport, held up his hand for Adriaan to high-five it as she passed him, but she ignored the gesture and jogged off down to the other end of the court to defend the basket from Aedan, who had made the rebound and was spiritedly dribbling the ball toward the hoop, determined to give his team the lead again.

Kan, feeling Klamin's constantly-shapeshifting eyes staring curiously at him, turned and smirked at the Shi'Odo Padawan. "I know just who to ask," he said.


End file.
